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Chapter Text

Ginny Weasley stabbed a piece of tomato with her fork in a particularly vicious manner. Her friend flinched, took a teeny tiny bite of her own fried egg and tried to be as inoffensive as possible. Obviously, the redhead had woken up on the wrong side of the bed - even if it wasn’t her own.

“Yeah, so I didn’t go home last night, but nothing went to plan.” Hermione Granger looked at Ginny, swallowed her egg and hummed. Ginny not going home alone was nothing new, but she rarely seemed so out of sorts over it.

“Well. Where did you end up?”

Ginny huffed. “Do you really want to know?”

“Of course.”

“Do you remember that guy, Malfoy, who we went to school with?”

The mouthful of mimosa burned as it tracked down Hermione’s throat. She nodded.

“Yeah. Him. And true to form, it was perfect in every way. Except for the fact that I’m absolutely sure he never wants to see me again.”

“Perfect?” Hermione sliced a piece of her own tomato into little triangles.

“God, yes. Like, unheard of.”

Interesting. Draco Malfoy was the kind of spoiled, rich arsehole that you wanted to hate but couldn’t because everyone fawned over him, and speaking against him was putting yourself at odds with the status quo. He was handsome, he played polo and his family had more money than they would ever have reason to spend. He had a bit of a reputation amongst the girls at the boarding school they’d attended, but then he’d gone to Oxford (where a new library was named after his grandfather) and she’d gone to Cambridge and Hermione hadn’t heard of him since.

“So, it was good then?”

“I said what I said. Perfect.”

Saturday mornings were usually spent in this manner, with Hermione and Ginny tucked away in some cafe sharing brunch and stories of the happy hour turned evening out that Friday had inevitably become. Lately, it seemed that Ginny did most of the regaling, as Hermione’s recent promotion at work had kept her from overindulging and making mistakes. At least, that’s what she told herself. It had nothing to do with the fact that her fiancé, Ginny’s brother, had left her six months ago and moved to Los Angeles on a whim. A whim that just happened to be bleach blonde and have gigantic breasts.

“What was so good about it?”

“Where to start,” Ginny sighed, knocking back the last of her cocktail. “He has a huge cock.”

Hermione choked. “The world is so unfair!”

“My thoughts exactly,” Ginny exclaimed, waving her fork in Hermione’s direction. “As soon as I touched it through his trousers, I knew. It was beautiful, too. Not just length, but perfectly thick and-“ Ginny groaned, “I told him he’d have to get me off before even attempting to put it in me.”

“And did he?”

“Twice.”

“You’re fucking joking.” The waitress came by their table and Hermione nodded for another round of champagne and orange juice. “How?”

“He ate me out,” Ginny said, unbothered by the waitress’ return with their drinks. “Cheers.”

“That’s it?”

Ginny took a bite of toast, chewed thoughtfully. “On average, H, how long does it take you to come from oral?”

Hermione shrugged. It wasn’t something that she had a ton of experience with, but Ron had always put in his best work, even if she didn’t get off from it every time. It had felt nice either way.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Honestly, a while. Like fifteen minutes, but you know I have difficulty-“

“Two minutes.”

“Did you count?”

“No, but he had one of those vintage-y looking expensive alarm clocks on his nightstand.” Ginny fixed Hermione with a pointed look and shook her head. “I should’ve never gone home with him.”

“But it sounds like you had a great night?”

“I did. Best night of my life.” Ginny motioned for their cheque. “ ‘Night’ being the operative word. He kicked me out at five this morning.”

Hermione had heard horror stories from Ginny before - men that ghosted after a week, men that lasted all of thirty seconds - but never this.

“What do you mean kicked you out?”

“Exactly that.” She waved off Hermione, slapping her own credit card down first. “He woke me up at the arse-crack of dawn, said he had a car waiting for me downstairs and would I make sure to close the door on my way out.”

Hermione’s brows almost disappeared into the curls at her hairline. “No.”

“Yes. Said he liked to get to the gym before it was crowded. There was some fancy car service with a man in a little hat outside waiting to take me home. It was humiliating.”

Both girls stood simultaneously, chairs scraping against the wooden floor of the cafe.
“But surely he’s texted you since then? Maybe he just has a particular routine. I can respect that, you know how I am.”

Ginny snorted. “Yes, Hermione. We all know the most action you get is with your planner. And no, he hasn’t texted, nor is he going to. We never exchanged numbers.”

“Maybe he’s just trying to be mysterious. I’m sure he’ll reach out on socials.” Hermione held the door open for her friend, the early summer humidity of London accosting them both. They walked in silence, side by side and Hermione pushed her sunglasses further up the bridge of her nose. She wasn’t sure what else to say.

“You know what, Hermione? He told me he couldn’t take my number because his phone was broken.” Ginny exhaled, lips forming a tight line. “And then his alarm went off.”

“What an absolute tosser.”

Ginny shrugged, waggling her fingers at an attractive man fixing the chalk sign outside of a neighboring pub. “I should’ve never gone home with him. That’s the last time I listen to Daphne, I’ll tell you that.”

— — —

Two minutes. Has to be an exaggeration, Hermione mused to herself as she waited for the elevator. Her office was on the sixth floor of a busy finance building in the City. Ginny hadn’t brought up her horrible evening for the rest of the weekend, but somehow Hermione found it sticking in her head.

“Are you getting on, Hermione?” Daphne Greengrass was looking at her expectantly from inside of the open elevator. How had she even missed that it had arrived?

“Sorry, Daph. Moving slow this morning.” Hermione shouldered her purse and stepped in next to the blonde women she’d had a desk next to since she’d started at the company four years ago.

“Get up to anything fun this weekend?”

Hermione shrugged. “Ginny and I ended up out on Friday, but I took it pretty easy for the rest of it. You?”

“I went to visit Astoria in Edinburgh. Just a quick trip.” Daphne rifled through the little Dior bag slung over her shoulder, extracted a pink gloss. “I chatted with Ginny on the phone yesterday - told me all about her evening of excitement.”

Hermione and Daphne snorted simultaneously. Ginny’s words from Saturday’s brunch came to mind. The last time I listen to Daphne.

“By the way-“

“I tried to warn her.” Daphne slashed the gloss over her plump lower lip. “Told her it was life-altering, but if she was going to do it to have absolutely zero expectations.”

“So you’ve-“

Daphne waved her off. “Of course I have. You’ve seen the man, right?”

“Not recently.”

Daphne smacked her lips together with a soft pop. “Hideously attractive. Like it’s disgusting, really. His body…”

Hermione blinked, waited. Daphne shook her head.

“Anyway, I tried to tell her it was a bad idea. Even if the man is an absolute god between the sheets. Had to learn that somewhere, didn’t he?”

When Daphne looked over at her, Hermione realized she was waiting for an answer.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“And it’s from being a slag of epic proportions. Did Ginny tell you what he did to me?” The elevator pinged open and they both stepped off.

“No, she mostly told me about his… tongue.”

Daphne sighed. “His only redeeming quality. He was the first man to eat my arse, you know.”

Richard, a sixty-something-year-old man from Analytics, scowled at them as he passed by. Daphne stuck out her tongue at his back.

“That’s-“ Hermione was lost for words. What did one say to that?

“It was so good. He would beg me for it, say the filthiest things… anyway, he was fucking Astoria the entire time.”

Hermione stopped short of their desks. “He was sleeping with your sister?”

“Mhmm. And do you know what he said when we called him out on it?”

“Do I want to know?”

Daphne chuckled. “He said we should all do it together sometime. That he’d always fantasized about being with two sisters at once.”

“Did you?” Hermione’s nose scrunched at the thought. She was no prude, but that just seemed too far.

“Gross. Of course not.” Daphne tucked her purse into the drawer of her desk, perched in her chair and spun to face Hermione. “I fucked him with Cho instead.”

Cho Chang was Daphne’s best friend and Hermione’s yoga instructor.

— — —

“The light in me honors and respects the light in you. Namaste.” Hermione pushed herself up onto her elbows, wiping at the beads of sweat gathered along her hairline. Did that mean Cho had hooked up with Daphne as well? Or did all of the attention go solely to Draco? A flash of an image, the two girls on their knees before him, crossed her mind.

Hermione shook her head to clear it.

“Hermione! I think I’m gonna grab a smoothie from the spot downstairs. Wanna join?”

Hermione crouched next to her mat, rolling it up neatly. “Sure.”

She had to ask. Her curiosity was going to kill her one day.

“Cho?”

The woman looked up from where she was rolling her own mat. “Yeah?”

“I was talking to Daphne the other day, and she mentioned something about, um, Malfoy.”

Cho snorted. “I heard Ginny was his latest victim.”

“Yeah. And then she was telling me that you two-“ Hermione made a weird motion with her fingers and Cho rolled her eyes, but smiled.

“The threesome back in Uni. Yeah, that happened. Why do you ask?”

Hermione shrugged. “No reason, really. I guess I just can’t believe that pretty much my entire friend group has been burned by him.”

“And it was worth every second.”

Hermione tucked her mat into it’s sling and shouldered it. “Really?”

“Oh god, yeah. That was when I learned I could squirt.” Hermione’s eyes went wide.

“Daphne wasn’t too happy about it, as she was under me, but I couldn’t help it.” Cho slugged water from her stainless steel water jug. “He just like.. forced it from me. And we were so young! What twenty-one year old guy knows how to make that happen?”

Hermione was quiet, following Cho from the studio and down the stairs of the brick building in Shoreditch.

“If only he wasn’t such a prick, I’d have continued on. He tried to pit Daph and I against each other though, turn it into some weird competition for his affection afterwards. Like, if I wouldn’t come over he’d say things like, ‘well, Daphne would.’ She and I had an all out screaming match at the pub one night and that’s when we decided he had to go.”

Cho held the door to the small cafe open for Hermione. “We’re still friends though. Actually, he just texted and let me know he’ll be at my Summer Solstice party.”

“You’re still friends with him?”

Cho shrugged, ordered a green smoothie with extra flaxseed. “Yeah. It’s tough not to be. For all his many, extensive flaws, he’s pretty fun to be around. Plus, he has the most amazing sailboat and he’s always down to take the girls out.”

She didn’t want to admit that she was drawn in by his apparent wealth, but at the words “amazing sailboat”, Hermione came to a very big, very unsettling realization - she wanted to fuck Draco Malfoy, too.

But not in the way that all of her friends had gone about it. She had a wealth of knowledge, now. She knew that he would give her the release she desperately needed post-tragic break up. Furthermore, she deserved to have something fun. She deserved someone hot and blonde, too. She deserved a rich suitor with a sailboat. She deserved an orgasm with absolutely no strings attached. It had been way too long, her self-inflicted celibacy. And, already being privy to how absolutely awful he was, she wouldn’t allow herself to get attached. If there was one thing Hermione Granger was good at, it was compartmentalizing.

“You should come.” Cho’s voice interrupted her revelation. “To the solstice party. It’s gonna be a great time. Lots of our old classmates are gonna be there - almost like a mini reunion.”

Of course Hermione would go. It’d be the perfect place to enact the plan already unfolding in her mind.

— — —

The dress was pulled from the absolute darkest corner of her closet, something she had bought with a wild fantasy - that Ron would take her for a romantic picnic and ravage her in the park - in mind. Needless to say, that never happened and the buttercup yellow sundress got relegated to a forgotten corner, never to be seen again. Until tonight.

“Oh, hello tits,” Ginny greeted her as soon as she opened the door to their shared cab. “Are we on a mission tonight, or are we on a mission?”

“I can’t just look nice?”

“No.” Ginny gave Hermione a pointed look, offered her a plastic to-go cup full of Pinot Grigio. “You always look nice. This is not nice. This is hot-girl-summer. This is finger-me-in-front-of-our-friends.”

“Gin!”

The redhead shrugged. “You know very well that Cho’s building has rooftop access. You look like you’re planning on sneaking up there and making every use of it.”

They pulled up to the aforementioned building and Ginny tugged Hermione out behind her.

“Now I’m even more excited for tonight!” She didn’t let go of Hermione’s hand as they climbed the stairs to Cho’s top-floor apartment. “I heard that Dean is coming. You know we have so much unfinished business from school.”

Cho’s apartment was unlocked and they let themselves in to find the party was already in full swing.

“He’s here,” Ginny let out an excited screech and then a more disgruntled, “and he’s here too.”

Hermione followed her line of vision, spotted the source of Ginny’s ire. Draco Malfoy, in the flesh. Even though she’d heard of nothing but his flesh, seeing him in person was somehow different.

He was just as handsome as they’d all said. She watched as he laughed at something another old classmate, Theo, said, followed the bob of his Adam’s apple as he took a sip of the drink in his hand. He seemed taller since they were in school, his face matured from boy to man. He had delicately pointed features that almost pushed him into being pretty, but his ego rolled off of him in a firmly masculine way. As if he could feel her stare, he caught her warm eyes with his own cool ones, the corners of his lips quirking up.

“Fucker,” Ginny grunted from beside her. “Come on, let’s get a drink.”

Hermione allowed herself to be dragged through the crowd of old friends and strangers towards the open kitchen and the island that was covered in every type of booze imaginable. Ginny immediately began helping herself to gin, twisting open a bottle of soda water to splash into it.

“Gin? Wine? Don’t make me drink alone, Hermione.”

She couldn’t help it; her thoughts were still across the room, on the man currently digging for a cherry at the bottom of his homemade Manhattan with two long fingers.

“Earth to Hermione! You’re getting Pinot Grigio. One of us needs to make good decisions tonight.”

Hermione took the offered wine glass. “There are a ton of people here. I didn’t realize the solstice was that big of a deal.”

“It’s not.” Ginny shrugged. “Cho just loves an excuse to throw a party. Do you think I should talk to Dean before I get smashed or just wing it later?”

“Now.” Hermione sipped the cheap Pinot with a wince. “Definitely now.”

“Maybe he has a friend who you could- oh hi, Luna! I didn’t know you were coming!”

Ginny was off before Hermione could even protest to the idea of one of Dean’s friends. Now was her chance, though. Ginny was throughly distracted and Hermione could enact part one of her plan.

Get Draco Malfoy alone.

Leaning back against the granite island she crossed one arm over her stomach, just below her breasts. The move was enough to boost the twins up, make them into enticing pillowy hills spilling over the bodice of her sundress. If he was anything of the animal she’d heard he was, he’d notice her soon enough.

It took all of twelve seconds. His eyes slid from his conversation, found her casually surveying the room. She had to tamp down the triumphant grin that threatened to crease her face as his eyes zeroed in exactly where she’d intended them to. Men were easy; she almost wondered how any of her friends had been fooled at all.

But then he’d looked away just as easily. Gone, ignored, as if she was just another pair of tits prancing around the party. Which, essentially, Hermione was, but she figured she would hold his interest a bit longer than that. Maybe she needed to be less obvious. Hermione wandered the room, employing another tactic altogether - the mingle.

In a less than obvious manner, she floated around the room, greeting friends and meeting new people. She flirted, she laughed, she kissed cheeks. She entirely ignored Draco. If he was anything like the man she’d pegged him to be, her blatant dismissal would only further fuel his curiosity to get to know her.

Feeling slightly socially drained, Hermione made to escape to the roof. If she was right (and she usually was), Draco would make his way after her. A quieter setting would be perfect for a more intimate conversation.

Climbing up the stairs and pushing through the heavy wooden door, Hermione took a deep inhale of the muggy summer air. It was a beautiful night, if a bit sticky. The roof was blissfully empty and Hermione wandered over to the wooden deck furniture at its center, taking a seat on the worn bench and closing her eyes.

“A little overwhelming in there, isn’t it?” Hermione cracked one eye open. Gotcha.

“I didn’t expect all of our old classmates to be here.” She crossed her legs, causing the sundress to rise up, pool against her lap. She watched Draco’s nostrils flare.

“Me either. It’s been a while, Granger.”

“It has. I think the last time we spoke was when you accused me of cheating during our Poli-Sci debate.”

Draco chuckled, hands shoved into khaki trousers pockets as he approached the bench. “Still holding onto that are we?”

Hermione raised a brow. “Until I have something else to hold onto, yes.”

“So sure I’ll disappoint you?” He sat next to her, arm stretching long against the back of the bench, his hand close enough to the back of her neck that she could feel the heat of his body.

“Your reputation precedes you.” She knew she had to tread lightly here. She had to seem as though she wasn’t interested before going in for the kill.

“And are you in the habit of believing everything people say?”

“When they’re my friends, sure.”

“And have I disappointed them, Granger?”

She knew from his inflection what he meant.

“Quite the opposite,” she said with a shrug. “It’s a lovely night, isn’t it?”

His eyes hadn’t left her and he hummed. “It is.”

She smiled again, her fingertips absentmindedly tracing across her décolletage before dipping into the start of her cleavage. Draco wet his lips as he watched her with rapt attention. So much for subtlety.

“I don’t know if I really feel like going back inside,” Hermione mused. “It was just so loud.”

“I’m finding I rather prefer it out here as well.”

He shifted closer to her, close enough that their thighs were pressed tight against one another.

“You know, Malfoy, we never really got to know one another in school.” Hermione smoothed the skirt of her dress, looked up at him earnestly. “Maybe we should get to know each other now?”

“Best idea you’ve ever had,” he breathed, leaning into her open invitation. Hermione giggled coquettishly, turning so that his lips landed on her cheek.

“Is that how you get to know someone?”

Draco sighed against her skin. “I thought you said you’d heard about me.”

“You can have my number-“

Draco sniffed his distaste, leaning away from Hermione.

“Or you can’t have me at all.”

Her words left nothing to be questioned; it was a direct invitation, with only one little requirement. One requirement that Draco Malfoy, apparently, wasn’t keen on.

“I don’t love a tease, Granger.”

“I’m not teasing, Malfoy.” Her hand found his thigh, resting precariously close to his crotch. It tensed under her touch. “Take my number.”

He held her eyes for the longest twenty seconds of her life. It was a challenge as much as it was a search, trying to suss out the truth in her words. His hand dug in his pocket.

“Here.” He handed her his mobile. It was apparent he wasn’t thrilled, but he still wanted it. This would be too easy. Hermione flicked the screen open and pulled up his contacts, entering hers alongside the small yellow flower emoji. He raised a brow when he saw it.

“So you remember,” she said, standing from the bench. His gaze traveled every inch of her, from the strappy pink sandals, up her tan legs to the nip of her waist. When he finally settled on her face, he smirked in a way that had the blood racing in her veins.

“How could I possibly forget.”

Chapter Text

It took exactly three days for Draco to reach out. Which was, in Hermione’s opinion, a good sign as three was her lucky number and happened to also be precisely how many orgasms she intended to have when she finally fucked him. She could almost ignore the fact that it was 21:04 on a Tuesday evening. 

+44 7700 900077: You up?

Hermione snorted. Two could easily play this game. She clicked on the number, tapped to call. It rang thrice. Lucky, again. 

“Well, hello.” His voice was a cocky drawl that was simultaneously arousing and incensing. Draco was too sure of himself, and although Hermione fully intended to use him for all that he was worth, she also was going to make him work for it. 

“Yes, I’m up. Why do you ask?” She could hear his smirk. 

“I am, too.” The innuendo wasn’t missed. “Want to come round mine? It’s a gorgeous night out, could do a glass of wine on the balcony.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s humid as fuck out tonight and looks about to storm at any moment.”

Draco hummed on the other end of the line. “Guess we’ll just have to stay inside then, if you’re afraid of getting a little wet.” 

“No one likes being just a little wet, Malfoy,” Hermione purred and his heavy inhale let her know he’d understood. “But it’s a Tuesday, and some of us have work to attend in the morning. Don’t you?” 

He chuckled. “Darling, I make my own schedule. Call in sick tomorrow. I’d say I won’t keep you up late, but…”

“You’re just being realistic,” she finished for him. “Sorry, Malfoy, but it’s a weeknight so I’m in for the evening.” 

A disgruntled sigh. “God, Granger, this is almost more trouble than its worth.”

“Giving up so soon?” Hermione feigned a disappointed little sigh of her own, breathy and high pitched. “Just because I said I was in…” 

She could hear the rustling of clothing on the other end. Too easy. 

“Well then, love. What are you wearing?” 

“Just a silk nighty.” That was a lie; Hermione was in an oversized t-shirt and baggy grey sweatpants.

“Really?” His voice was amused. 

“No,” she laughed. “Not at all. Let’s get together on the weekend, Malfoy. Take me out. Impress  me.” 

“Alright. One of the smaller boats is in Lymington and Saturday looks to be good weather. I’ll pick you up.” 

“Smaller boats?”

“You drive a tough bargain, Granger. It’s more intimate, darling, and I don’t think we should nip away for a weekend in the South of France just yet.” 

Reluctantly, Hermione had to agree. While the idea of pressuring him into a weekend away sounded luxurious, she was on a mission and that didn’t involve travel to the continent. 

“Fine. Time?” 

“Half past eight, bring a swimsuit.” She didn’t bother with saying goodbye. If she opened her mouth, Hermione was positive he’d be able to hear how smug she was feeling. Everything was going according to plan and Draco Malfoy was turning out to be surprisingly easy. 

— — —

“This is the smaller boat?” 

It was easily ten meters long, with a brilliant white hull that made it seem like it was hardly ever used. There were two matching white sails and two wheels used for steering set beside some bench seating. A door way was in the middle of the boat, leading down into the hull where Draco explained there was a bathroom, a kitchen, a bed.

“I’m trying to get a tan,” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. “Shall I help with anything or…?”

“Go on.” Draco nodded towards the bow of the boat. “Go lay out while I get us to cruising.”

Hermione headed to the front of the sailboat, setting her large canvas bag down and unloading the essentials - a fluffy, oversized towel, coconut scented tanning oil, and a dirty romance novel from her favorite author. Maybe he’d ask her what she was reading. She tugged her blouse over her head, shifting on unsteady feet as Draco motored them away from the dock and into more open waters.

“Steady on,” he called out to her and she sent him a cheeky grin over her shoulder as she unbuttoned her denim shorts, bent in half to tug them down. There was no missing the way his jaw dropped open at the view of her curved over, a hot pink string bikini stretched between her cheeks. Hermione thought she may have imagined the breathless curse, but she couldn’t be sure. Settling down onto her blanket, she began the performance that was rubbing herself down with tanning lotion. 

“Need a hand?” His voice was closer than she realized. They were coasting slowly now, the wind gentle and warm as it carried them through tiny, rippling waves. Somewhere in the mix, Draco was down to his swim trunks as well, alabaster skin shining in the sun in a way that would only suit him. Hermione looked up at him, eyes tracing over the defined lines of his Adonis’ belt, the ridges of his abdominals. 

“I suppose I could use one.” She licked her lips. Handing him the plastic bottle, she laid on her stomach. “Would you get my back?” 

Wide palms smoothed over her skin, thumbs sinking into the muscles near her shoulders. Hermione couldn’t help her moan. 

“A little tense, love?” His hands rubbed down her spine, settled in the small of her back, his fingers curling around the start of her hips. 

“Some of us work all week,” she mused. He tugged on one side of her bikini, letting it snap back against her skin. 

“Prick,” she laughed, rolling over so her front was bared. “Didn’t you promise champagne?” 

Draco snorted. “I may’ve mentioned it in the car. Hang on.” 

He maneuvered himself around the deck of the boat comfortably, as if he’d done it a million times before, and Hermione had the momentary thought of all the girls that had been on a sail before her. The sound of a cork popping and the subsequent splash as it landed on the ocean shook her from her contemplation. 

“That’s littering. Don’t you care at all about the poor turtle that may swallow that?” 

“Love,” he poured the champagne easily into two glasses held in one hand, “if a turtle could swallow that thing, I’d be quite impressed.”

“Yes, I’m sure that tiny cork does seem big to you.” 

“Cheeky girl.” He handed her a bubbling glass, sat down next to her. “What book are you reading?”

“Oh.” She picked it up, handed it over. “It’s essentially a book of smut. The writing isn’t all that great but the sex scenes are-“

“Wait.” Draco pushed his Ray-Ban sunglasses onto his head and fixed her with an incredulous look. “You don’t think Evelyn St. Pierre is a talented writer?” 

Hermione cocked her head in surprise. “You know Evelyn St. Pierre?”

“Men read erotica too, Granger.” Draco huffed, flipping his sunglasses back down over his eyes. “And Temptations of the Mind was brilliant. When Daniel found out that Noelle was Amanda’s daughter?” 

Shrugging, Hermione sipped at the dry, cool wine. “I just liked it for the daddy kink.” 

“Typical,” Draco said with a roll of his eyes. “You girls can be so predictable sometimes.” 

Laughing, Hermione shoved her shoulder into his. “Are we? Been called daddy a few times before, have you?” 

“Comes with the territory,” he replied with a haughty smirk. “When you have as much money as I do and as big a-“

“Don’t even-“

“Boat,” he gave her a grin, “girls tend to call you all sorts of things.”

“Mm, I can think of a couple things I’d like to call you.” Hermione laid back on her elbows, taking in the view of a blue horizon, the rocks and greenery of the distant coast. “Conceited-“

“Honest.”

“Vain-“

“Shall I throw you over the side?” He stood up, trying and failing to look imperious with his hands on his hips, a smile creasing his face. “I think I will drop anchor though. It’s hot and I’d like to go for a quick swim.” 

Moving to the back of the boat, Draco released the anchor and they dragged slowly to a rocking stop, the waves soothing their steady movement against the hull. 

“Join me?” He was standing at the side now, looking over into the blue.

“I’m not a fan of cold water.” 

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

It was almost too graceful the way he dove into the water, the way his muscled arms cut through it’s surface, his long body disappearing quickly after. She watched his platinum head break the surface several meters from the boat, watched as he swam back towards it in broad, confident strokes.

Fuck, he was so hot.

And he had been so flirtatious with her, but had yet to try to cross any sort of line. Which was fun for this little cat and mouse game at first, but after the touch of his hands on her skin and the warmth of the sun, Hermione was ready. More than, as she watched him tug himself up the ladder at the back of the boat and put his sunglasses back on, saunter over to her in trunks that were now soaking and plastered to his skin. 

Hot had been an understatement. Huge would’ve been a better descriptor. Even the cold of the water did little to diminish his size, apparent and currently eye-level with Hermione. A truly impressive bulge, expected but still unfair to be attached to such a slag of a man.

“Water feels great. You really should-“

His words cut off as Hermione moved to her knees, tucked her fingers into the elastic waist of his shorts. 

“Oh? I thought I was still trying to impress you,” he drawled as she shifted closer to him, set her sunglasses down beside her. Looking up at him through thick lashes, she smirked. 

“I think you’ve done enough.”

With one swift tug, his shorts were around his ankles and her mouth was on him. He was only just becoming hard, so Hermione lathed his length with kittenish licks, open-mouthed kisses as he grew. She used one hand to grip his base, hold him for her studious perusal. She’d need him sloppy wet if she had any hope of being able to take him. Hermione rolled her tongue around the crown of him, flickered it against his frenulum in a way that made him groan and sink his fingers into her windblown curls. 

“What a mouth,” he cooed, pressing further between her lips. She cupped his head in the curl of her tongue, suctioned her lips over him and gave slow pulsing pulls. Draco groaned.

“You were such a swot in school,” he pushed her hair back from her face, made a ponytail with it in both hands. “Did you learn this in a book too?” 

Hermione pulled away, swirled her tongue around his head before giving it a teasing kiss. “If I had, you probably would’ve read it too.”

Opening her mouth wider, she sunk down on him, pushed him as far into her mouth as she could go without gagging. Her jaw was beginning to ache but the little grunts of pleasure coming from Draco were addictive and she wasn’t quite ready to quit just yet. She took deep, steadying breaths through her nose, forcing him past her gag reflex and into her throat. Swallowing reflexively around him, her eyes watered and she didn’t miss the way one of his hands snuck away to brush at her tears. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” he moaned, thrusting shallowly into the cavern of her mouth. “Taking me down your throat like that. Beautiful.” 

Draco pulled her away by her curls and she spit the saliva gathered in her mouth onto his shaft, tugging him with her hand as she took heaving breaths. Kicking his shorts away, Draco gently gripped Hermione by both elbows, encouraging her to stand. 

“My turn,” he breathed, before sinking to his knees. Hermione realized gleefully his intentions and readied herself to experience the absolute pleasure her friends had raved about. 

She soon learned that no words could possibly do this man’s mouth justice. 

He didn’t bother stripping her of her tiny bikini bottoms, only pushed them to the side, took her smaller hand in his and, wrapping her fingers around the material, told her to hold. He then caressed his way down one leg until he reached her dainty foot, lifting it and placing it on his shoulder. Her toes curled against his back as he grinned. 

“You’re going to want to hold on,” he encouraged and it took her no time to bury her free hand in his damp blond hair. The warning wasn’t for naught. 

Draco ate her like he’d live inside of her if he could, drown in her if he had a choice. He grabbed at her arse as he did, rocked her onto his tongue until she got the hint to use his face like he wanted her to. Spreading her lips with long fingers, he licked her from pucker to clit, leaving absolutely no atom of her untouched. Ron would’ve never.

“Oh, fuck,” Hermione gasped as he penetrated her with his tongue, licked into her sopping hole as if he’d never had honey sweeter. “Fuck that feels-“

But she could hardly talk with his tongue flicking over her clit so expertly, circling that little aching nub with the hard tip until she was pressing further into him, pulling his hair to get him even closer. Draco groaned into her skin. 

“Taste so-,” he licked her with a wide tongue, “-so fucking good.”

His face was shining with her, absolutely gleaming in the sunlight but he was ravenous and uncaring. Hermione was so close. She rolled her hips into his face, searching for that blinding end. It was found when he sunk two thick fingers into her, curled against her front wall and pressed. 

“Oh my god,” she squealed, the leg she was balanced so precariously on buckling as she rode his face indelicately, rubbed her pussy over his lips, his nose, his chin. “Oh god, oh fuck.”

“So good,” Draco murmured and she was being tugged into his lap, a warm, sweaty, soaking wet mess. She kissed him then, for the first time, tasting herself on a tongue that tasted uniquely of him. The kisses burned hot. Hermione couldn’t help but nip at his lips, his cheek. Draco sucked the skin of her jaw into his mouth. It was like they were trying to consume one another, right here with the late afternoon sun as their only witness. 

His fingers found the knot at the back of her bikini top and he tugged until the strings dangled freely and he could palm at her breasts. She keened when he caught her nipples in his fingers, pulled them lightly away from her body.

“Yes.” She pressed into his hands, grasped his face in both tiny hands and urged him where she wanted him. “More.” 

He chuckled against the sun-warmed skin of her, hummed as he pulled a peaked nipple into his mouth. Tongue rolling over it insistently, he moved her hips over him, grabbed her cheeks and spread until his cock was nestled against her seam, her puffy lips splitting over him.

“Please, I can’t,” Hermione whined. He moved to her other breast.

“Please, Draco, please.” She slid over him in a desperate attempt to push him inside. Lifting her, Draco set her down next to him on her knees. 

“How do you want me, love?”

Hermione didn’t need to be told twice. She turned towards the front of the boat on hands and knees, reached to her thigh and pulled at one side of the string bikini until it fluttered away from her, revealing the glistening heat of her pussy to him. 

“This.” She looked over her shoulder at him, sunk down to her elbows. “Like this, Draco.”

Hermione watched as he lined himself up behind her. He spread her with his hands, focused as he sunk inside of her inch by devastating inch. The stretch was almost too much, but the sense of overwhelming fullness felt right. She almost felt like she could come from the stimulation of it alone. So much for being difficult to please. At this angle he was pressed against that sensitive front wall of hers again, already swollen from previous stimulation. He began to thrust slowly. 

“Oh!” 

The feeling was new. Draco pulled back on her hips gently, arched her even further into him. He increased his pace only slightly, preferring a steady, firm stroke that made Hermione want to sob. She felt on the verge of coming once more, too quickly. It was overwhelming. He hadn’t even played with her clit. She made to reach back and rub at it herself, but his hand smacked hers away before she even made contact.

“Grab the rails,” Draco hissed and his tone left little room for debate. Hermione reached out in front of herself, grabbed onto the shining metal rail that ran along the edges of the boat, curled her fingers around the warm hardware.

“Perfect girl. Now, hold.” 

She was jostled forward as he railed into her, pummeling that ultra sensitive spot inside. It was lucky they were so far from land, because the animalistic noises she was making would surely be cause for alarm if anyone overheard. 

“Shit,” she cursed, her pussy starting to push at him like it wanted him out. Still, he was relentless, pressing harder, moving through her body’s instinctual reaction to having her g-spot stimulated so roughly. She felt like she was going to explode.

“Right there, huh,” he asked her almost cruelly, unrelenting although she was quickly turning into a mess in his hands. “That’s the spot, isn’t it, love?” 

Hermione couldn’t form words. With one last, involuntary push, Draco was ejected from her body and she was gushing all over the fiberglass of the boat, splashing against her own knees and calves. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her mouth was gaping open. She’d have to remember to send Cho a floral arrangement for the insight. His fingers were on her clit before she even had a chance to catch her breath. 

“Another,” Draco insisted, the fingers of one hand rubbing over her while the other stroked his cock. “Give me one more, Granger.” 

The surname shouldn’t have done it. But there was something so forbidden about fucking the popular, rich boy from grammar school, about letting him ruin you in ways previously unexplored, that Hermione couldn’t deny that last request. 

She clenched hard around nothing and Draco grunted behind her, the thick ropes of his spend landing on her arse, her back. Hermione was covered in him.

Sweaty, sticky and thoroughly sated, Hermione unwrapped sore fingers from the guardrails, sat back on her heels. She chanced a glance at Draco who was leant back against the incline over the cabin of the boat, lips quirked up in what could be considered a smile. 

It was only then that she noticed he hadn’t even bothered to take off his sunglasses.

— — —

The ride back to London was long, but not entirely quiet. Hermione had every intention of drifting into a sun and sex induced coma, but Draco had other ideas. His hand on her thigh had been wholly distracting, and she’d squirmed until he’d snuck his fingers into her shorts and gotten her off once more in a way so deliciously thorough she’d wrapped her fingers around his wrist and begged him to stop. He’d dragged his wet fingers away, over her mound and up her stomach to flick at the gem of her bellybutton ring.

“I like that,” he’d said with a look so heated she couldn’t help but blush. And then everything took a decidedly neutral turn. Draco Malfoy asked her about books.

As it turned out, he didn’t just read romance books. He was an avid reader of mysteries, of specific nonfiction, of certain thrillers and horrors. They talked at length about favorite authors, book signings they’d been to, the upcoming release of a new book on climate change. The time passed in a comfortable sort of familiarity that Hermione chalked up to the intimacy of him having definitely seen her arsehole when taking her from behind. They could be friendly now; this was what two consenting adults did when they wanted to get their rocks off. 

“Well, Granger, I didn’t know what to expect today, but I will say you’ve exceeded anything I thought.” Hermione knew she was preening, but couldn’t find it in herself to care as Draco pulled up outside of her apartment building, putting on his flashers as if London traffic didn’t exist around them. 

“Yeah, it was nice. Thanks, Malfoy.” She made to open the door, but his hand on her waist stopped her. His thumb made a sweep over her side and he gave her an amused look. 

“Again, sometime?” 

Hermione shrugged, nodded. “Sure. We’ll see.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Alright, love. Whatever you say.” 

And then he leaned in as if he were going to kiss her.

“I’ll text you,” Hermione heard herself near shouting as she exited the car hastily. She slammed the door behind her and hurried towards her building, nudging her bag higher on her shoulder. What the fuck had just happened? Draco Malfoy had tried to kiss her goodbye, and for a moment, she’d considered letting him.

Chapter Text

Draco answered the second time she called. His voice was groggy with sleep, words mumbled like his brain hadn’t caught up to his mouth just yet.

“Granger? It’s-“ there was a shuffling noise as the phone moved, “well after midnight.”

“It’s also a Friday,” Hermione drawled, clipping down the sidewalk in her heels. “Don’t tell me you’re in bed already.”

He huffed. “I have tennis early with Blaise.”

“That’s surprisingly… boring of you.” She could sense the rolling of eyes on the other end of the line.

“Did you call me just to insult me? Or was there something else you wanted?”

Hermione smirked. “I met up with Daphne at Lyaness for drinks. Was just going to head home, or…?”

Draco hummed. “Or what, Granger? I thought you might not be interested after I didn’t hear from you all week.”

“Oh, don’t play coy, Malfoy, it doesn’t suit you.” Hermione flagged down a black cab, climbing into the backseat. “Would you like to text me your address or should I just go home and play with myself instead?”

The cab driver looked at her in his rearview, but had the decency to not say a word. Hermione had had enough drinks that she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Draco sighed.

“I’ll text you.”

— — —

“Like a bull in a china shop,” Draco drawled as Hermione stumbled into the small table just inside the entryway of his flat as she slipped out of her heels. She gave him a cheeky grin, righting the photo of him and his parents that had fallen over.

“Your dad’s kind of hot,” she mused, “Are your parents still together?”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “I’m not answering that because I’m questioning your motives now.”

She laughed, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. His hands found her hips, pulled her close until she had to lean her head back to look up at him.

“What?,” she asked innocently, looking at him through her lashes. “You don’t want me to be your step-mummy?”

Draco gave her arse a firm smack. “Don’t make me send you home.”

“Fine,” she reached up on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his jaw. “I’ll behave.”

“Mm, I was rather counting on you not behaving.” He gripped her bum in both wide hands. Lifting, Draco hoisted her up until she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“I can be naughty if you prefer,” Hermione murmured, nipping at the lobe of his ear as he headed down a hallway, presumably towards his room. There was something so arousing about how easily he carried her through the flat.

When his knees hit the edge of his bed, he tossed her down. Hermione giggled, stretching along the soft French linen duvet.

“God, your bed feels like a cloud,” Hermione moaned. Her eyes fluttered closed as she burrowed into the bed. She felt Draco’s weight settle above her, the warmth of his solid form as it hovered above her body.

“Granger? You’re not falling asleep are you?”

She blinked one eye open. “Not at all. I didn’t have that much to drink.”

“Yet you almost tore my house down.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You could afford another. Now, stop whinging and fuck me.”

“Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” Wide hands smoothed up her thighs and she bit her lip to keep from groaning.

“I just know what I want.” She reached between their bodies, pulled down the zipper at the side of her miniskirt. “Could you go any slower?”

Draco sighed, hooking his fingers in the sides of her lacy knickers, tugging them over her legs. “What if I want to enjoy you this way?”

Hermione shrugged, arms flopping over her head. “Then enjoy me, Mr. Malfoy.”

She laid back expectantly, and Draco shook his head with a chuckle. He shimmied her skirt over her tanned thighs until she was entirely bare from the waist down.

“Gorgeous,” he murmured, more to himself than for her benefit. She blushed at the compliment anyway. His fingers trailed over her skin, thumbs smoothing against her lips when they arrived at her core, holding her open for his intent perusal.

“You have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

And that compliment she knew was for her. It had a pink flush spreading across her chest, heat thrumming against the surface of her skin.

“You probably say that to all the girls.”

He slid a thumb against her opening, circled it thrice before gliding it up to her clit. The wet friction was much needed and Hermione hummed her contentment.

“I’m a lot of things,” he dipped his thumb into her and she clenched instinctively. “But I’m not a liar.”

Hermione had chosen to mostly tune him out by this point, instead focusing on the teasing penetration of his thick thumb inside of her. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. She reached for his wrist, her small fingers wrapping around his and bringing them to brush against her hole.

“You’re determined to have this at your pace,” Draco huffed with a laugh. He didn’t deny her any longer though. He pressed inside of her, two fingers at once, eased by how soaked she was already. Hermione groaned and immediately began rocking into his hand. He slapped at her thigh lightly and she made an indignant little yelp.

“Could you manage a little patience for me?”

Hermione shook her head. She grabbed at his wrist, held it as she moved on his hand.

“I’ve been thinking about it all week,” she hissed, pulsing her muscles around him until she could feel herself growing unbearably wetter. “Don’t you want to make me feel good?”

Draco cursed. “Of course I do.”

His body bowed over hers, fingers moving deeper inside of her. The hand that was free shoved her knit tube top down below her breasts so that his mouth could find one of her pebbled nipples, circle the flat of his tongue over it.

“Is this what you needed?,” he asked into her skin, curling his fingers until each stroke was rewarded with a sloppy squelch. He pushed harder, fucked his fingers into her until she was begging.

“Please.” She was whining, her voice even pathetic to her ears. “Please, faster, please.”

He gave her exactly what she wanted, moving quicker as his tongue curled around her nipple, as he flicked the tip over it teasingly.

Hermione was folding in on herself, knees raised towards her chest to give him deeper access. The lewd sounds of her cunt filled the silence of the room.

“Is this what that pretty pussy wanted?” He dragged his teeth along her collarbone. “Are you gonna make a mess on my sheets, love?”

His slight patronizing tone in combination with his skilled fingerfucking was more than enough to force her orgasm upon her. Those talented fingers were pressing right against that swollen spot inside of her, the one that had her toes curling, her abdomen clenching with the familiar but uncomfortable need to push.

“Fuuuck,” she wailed, shifting up on her elbows as she soaked his sheets and forearm. She pushed at his hand weakly and he chuckled at the sad attempt to remove him.

“Oh no, Hermione, you wanted this.” He pulled his fingers out of her, rubbed the flat of them over her drenched cunt. The slick noises should’ve embarrassed her, but she was already barreling towards a second orgasm, so close on the tail of the last.

“You begged.” His teeth dragged over her nipple.

“You were impatient.” He moved three fingers into her now.

“You couldn’t wait.”

She wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulled him close until their foreheads touched. Her lips parted and his eyes flickered there. It happened too quickly for her to stop it.

Draco kissed her.

It wasn’t long, pure lustful force as he pressed into her mouth with a hunger that gave her pause. It also triggered an immediate second orgasm.

Hermione whined, her head lolling back between her shoulder blades as she trembled around his hand, thighs shaking with the force of her climax. She had to get away from him before he kissed her again.

Summoning all of her strength, she shoved at his shoulders until he fell sideways onto the bed, settling flat on his back.

“You’re right,” she panted, tugging the joggers he was wearing halfway down his thighs. His cock fell heavy against his stomach. “I can’t wait.”

She straddled him, but faced his feet. Easier like this, she thought to herself. She could chase that elusive third orgasm this way. It took minimal effort to slip his thick length inside of herself and she wasted no time in setting a punishing pace on top of him.

“Holy f-“

She glanced over her shoulder, felt momentarily victorious at the sight of him biting his knuckle as if he were seconds away from losing it entirely. Warmth sunk into her bones, a heady sort of pride and pleasure. It was best if she didn’t look at him at all.

Gripping his thighs, Hermione bounced on top of him until her own thighs burned at the exertion. The soft grunts behind her fueled her fire and soon her fingers were at her center, rubbing hasty circles over her clit.

“Your turn,” she hissed as she felt herself growing tighter. A hand drifted between his legs, cupped the sac that was tightening towards his body in anticipation. It was only seconds more, her hand moving impossibly faster - the mental image of him cursing into his fist still heavy in her mind - until she was coming a final time.

His hands grasped her arse, lifting her hastily up as he pulsed and throbbed, his own orgasm spilling against the skin of her inner thigh.

“Christ,” Draco all but whimpered, a hysteric laugh bubbling out. “What the fuck. You’re incredible.”

Hermione nodded, shifting around until she could slip off the edge of his bed. She grabbed the first thing her eyes landed on - a soft black tee shirt - and wiped the mess on her thighs clean.

“Thanks for that,” Hermione breathed. She slid back into her knickers, twisted to zipper herself back into her skirt. The knit top was easiest, merely tugged back up until she was tucked neatly away.

Draco looked disgruntled. “In a bit of a rush?”

“You have tennis tomorrow,” Hermione shrugged. “Wouldn’t want to keep you up.”

“Honestly, I can think of nothing I want more.” Draco moved off the bed, settling his trousers back on his hips. “I’d imagine we could do that at least twice more and I could still manage a few hours of sleep.”

He reached for her, but Hermione was already backing through the doorway of his room.

“Didn’t bring a toothbrush,” she said with a shrug. “Maybe next time.”

He followed her through the apartment, watched her slip back into her strappy heels. When she reached for the doorknob, his fingers closed around her wrist and she could’ve sworn aloud. Was this really the same man that had kicked Ginny out before dawn?

“Can I call you a car, at least?”

There was no mistaking the edge of vulnerability in his tone. For a second, she felt bad, but then she thought of Cho, Daphne, Astoria.

She waved her mobile in her hand. “Already got a rideshare. Thanks, though. Bye, Malfoy!”

And once again, it was easier to not look over her shoulder and see his expression.

— — —

“Are you still fucking Malfoy?”

It had been three weeks since their sail, and it had become a bit of a thing. A thing in that it was happening two or three times a week now, in various locations, in various positions, in various states of undress.

Ginny sipped her iced latte, giving it a restless shake as she waited for Hermione’s answer.

“Yeah.” Hermione jabbed her straw into her own frozen matcha. “It’s not serious or anything, though.”

“And you aren’t catching feelings, right?”

Hermione scoffed. “Oh, absolutely not. Trust me, the horror stories were enough to put me off falling in love.”

She didn’t need to tell her friend that Draco had been surprisingly pleasant to her the entire time they’d been hooking up. In fact, she’d come home the night before to the latest Evelyn St. Pierre book on her doorstep. It could’ve been anyone, she supposed, but it made the most sense that it was him. A nice trade off - books for blowjobs or blowing her back out. Hermione wasn’t about to complain.

“Well. As long as you aren’t getting hurt.” Ginny gave her a sidelong look and Hermione raised a brow.

“I can handle myself, Gin. We hardly even talk.”

As if on cue, her phone vibrated in her pocket.

“And who’s that then?”

Hermione glanced at the screen, then at her friend. “Oh, fuck off.”

It was Draco. Dinner tonight? x

She thought about it longer than she should have. A free dinner would be nice, and they’d already established he wasn’t the worst company. But certainly that was crossing every sort of line she’d set out to establish.

She shoved her phone in her pocket. Easiest just not to respond. He’d get the message eventually, drop the matter of taking her out.

“Do you want to have dinner with the girls this weekend? We were thinking Saturday night.”

“Sure,” her phone buzzed again, “what time?”

“Not sure. I’ll start a group message and we can figure it out from there.”

Hermione fished her phone out, saw his name on the screen once more. He could sweat it out a bit. It wouldn’t kill him to wait for a response for once.

“He’s really blowing you up, isn’t he?” Of course Ginny had snooped at her screen and seen his name. She’d have to change it to something more inconspicuous.

“Eh.” Hermione took a long pulled of her drink to avoid an answer. “We text sometimes. It’s fine.”

Ginny looked skeptical. “And what exactly do you talk about?”

Hermione pursed her lips. Sometimes he mentioned books he thought she’d like, sent her photos of things throughout his day. She tried to reply sparingly, lest he get the wrong idea.

“I don’t know. Nothing. Sex.”

Ginny didn’t look confident.

“Look.” Hermione fished out her phone, swiped to open the latest message. Predictably, it was a picture of his cock, hard and pulled through the zipper of his tailored trousers. He hadn’t even bothered to undo his belt. A message followed,Can’t stop thinking about how good you taste.

Ginny’s eyes narrowed. “He asked you to dinner?”

Leave it to Ginny to fully ignore a picture of a dick in favor for the message above it.

“It’s not like I’m going to go.” Hermione scrolled through her camera roll until she found a canned nude that was cute enough. It was something she’d snapped during the last bath she’d taken, tits pressed firm and high between her arms. It was perfect for a situation like this. She fired it off quickly.

“Draco Malfoy doesn’t take girls to dinner.” Ginny bumped her shoulder into Hermione’s and the curly-haired woman rolled her eyes.

“Clearly, he does.” Her phone went off four times in a row and Hermione couldn’t help her smirk. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t mean anything. I’m a strong, independent woman - can’t I get laid when I want?”

“Mhmm,” Ginny drawled, “you sure can. Whatever you have to tell yourself.”

Hermione put her friend in a teasing headlock and both girls devolved into laughter.

— — —

The new St. Pierre book turned out to be much steamier than the last three. Hermione was unbuttoning her pants, fingers slipping inside her knickers when her phone alarm went off.

Shit, she had to get ready for dinner. The girls had decided upon half past seven, and if she didn’t get a move on, she’d definitely be late.

Even so, she spared a moment to send off a text to Draco. Busy later?

She didn’t have to wait long for a response.

Supposed to meet up with the lads, but am sure I can make time for you.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course you can. It’s your fault really - this book is too much.

In a good way?

Hermione rifled through her closet, pulled out a cute brown bodycon dress. Draco would love it. Most importantly, he’d love taking it off of her later. Maybe after drinks with the girls, if she was in any shape.

Best way. She shrugged out of her casual clothes, snapping a few photos while she was stood in just her bra and underwear. Hermione had perfected the angles, making sure to position her mobile so that her arse looked almost disproportionate.

Insanity. What are you up to rn?

He was too easy sometimes.

Getting ready for dinner with the girls. Wish you were here to take the edge off.

She slipped the dress over her head, shinnied the fabric over her thighs. Her phone buzzed from where she’d tossed it on her bed.

Am at the gym now, could be at yours in a half hour.

Hermione glanced at the time. It would have to wait.

Cutting it too close - save that energy for me later?

She posed in the mirror, sent a hasty picture of herself in her dress and heels. If she rucked the dress up her hips a bit, no one needed to know.

That’s what you’re wearing? Unfair.

Seconds before a second message came through.

Your legs… those thighs. Fuck me, I want to squeeze your legs together and fuck those too.

Hermione blushed. Is there any part of me you wouldn’t fuck?

She watched as three dots appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again.

I was going to list all of the ways I’d like to defile every part of you, but I’ll keep it simple - I want all of you.

A photo followed that message, snapped in the mirror of the expensive private gym he had a membership to. He was in those blasted grey joggers again, obviously thick and hard down the left side. He’d lifted his sweat-damp shirt to show off his glistening abdominals. A better woman might have thought the photo conceited.

Hermione was no such woman.

I want you to fuck me until I cry. She added a little pleading face emoji for extra impact.

I can be there in twenty.

Another message came through, this one from Cho - where r u xx

Hermione cursed aloud. Now she was wound up in more ways than one, and she still had a whole night to make it through.

Taking a deep breath, she scrambled to gather her makeup into her purse to put on in the car on the ride to the restaurant. It would only be a couple hours - how bad could it be?

Hermione soon learned. As it turned out, it could be much, much worse.

Ginny was sloshing more white wine into her glass as she crossed and uncrossed and recrossed her legs for the umpteenth time.

“You look fine,” Daphne comforted her, mistakenly identifying her squirming as due to the short length of her dress. “I’ve worn much shorter.”

If only Hermione could tell her it was from the barrage of messages she’d received since arriving to the restaurant, messages that had entirely and effectively ruined her knickers.

Draco spared no detail in telling her how he’d like to make her fall apart. How he would punish her for leaving him hanging, how he’d take her so hard from behind that her teeth would click together. That he’d press her into his bed, spread her arse cheeks with both hands and spit on her tight pucker. Press his thumb into her there, then his pointer and middle finger, stretch her wide until she was ready for him. And then he’d take her there, fuck her naughty little hole while he filled her pussy with his fingers.

Hermione was panting.

“Mi, did you hear me?” Cho was looking at her kindly and she felt a flush of shame spread across her chest and cheeks.

“Sorry, what?”

“I’m planning a retreat in the fall-,” Hermione was lost once again. She unlocked her phone subtly, tapped a quick message.

It was her location, followed by ‘come here. now.’

Half of her expected an excuse for a response. Surely he was out with the boys by now, and Hermione wasn’t really sure what she’d do if he did show up. This wasn’t exactly the crowd to invite him to dine with.

Fifteen minutes later, though, her phone lit up.

Parking now.

“I have to go to the loo.”

Ginny paused mid sentence and the other girls looked at her funnily.

“I- yeah, sorry, be right back.” Hermione pushed out of her chair, weaving through the restaurant in a direction that was decidedly not the loo. But she couldn’t be bothered to care, not when Draco and his glorious cock were only metres away.

He was parked down a darkened side street. A side street with precious little foot traffic, and Hermione thanked her lucky stars. He saw her through his windshield and made to open the drivers side door but Hermione blocked him from getting out, instead climbing in and on top of him.

“Well, hello.” Draco chuckled as she reached down, sent the seat of his expensive Mercedes sliding backwards. “I thought we might have a drink first at least.”

“Absolutely not,” Hermione panted, her thighs falling open around his hips bringing her core flush with the placket of his trousers. “I’m done with the waiting game.”

“Dirty girl,” Draco murmured as her fingers tackled his belt buckle. “Are you really going to fuck me in my car? You don’t care who sees, do you?”

Hermione snorted into the skin of his neck, victoriously slipping the button through the hole on his trousers and tugging down his zip. “They could watch for all I fucking care.”

“Don’t push.” His hands shoved at her dress, shifted it up and over her hips, higher and higher until it was scrunched up over her breasts. “And no knickers? Filthy thing, maybe I will bend you over the hood and have my way with you.”

The thought sent a shiver down her spine. They were playing on borrowed time though, and she knew the girls would get suspicious if she took too long.

“Please, Malfoy, please fuck me.”

She was untucking him from his trousers, pumping him with an urgency that left little room for misinterpretation. He moved forward, sucked a nipple into his mouth.

“Have you been wet for me all night?” He inhaled sharply when she rocked her cunt into the steely length of him.

“Yes- please,” she was whining now, begging pathetically, “please, I need you.”

He reached down, grabbed the stiletto heels of her shoes like handles as he thrust through her slick slit.

“How badly, love?”

“Draco,” she moaned. She was plunging her fingers inside of herself now, using them to wet his cock for her. “I can’t wait, don’t make me wait.”

She wrapped her fingers around his base, lifted up just enough on her knees that she could guide him to her entrance. Surely, they were fogging up the windows by now. Hermione felt overheated, damp and dizzy.

“You feel like heaven,” he sighed as she sunk onto him. Hermione nodded her agreement, incapable of forming words in that moment, but determined to sate the fire burning low in her belly.

She began to move as he began to fuck up into her. Their bodies slapped together, the only sound in the car the skin against skin, the heavy pants of their breathing. He was so deep like this, the gentle upward curve of him pressing deliciously inside of her. Draco’s hands wrapped around her waist, helping her rock, thumbs pressing just below her bellybutton and for a moment Hermione swore she could feel him there. One palm slid around to press its heel into the skin there and Hermione pushed him away frantically.

“Do you want me to ruin your seats?”

Draco chuckled, thumb slipping down to press against her swollen clit. “I’ll get it detailed. Better yet, I’ll buy another.”

He leant her back until she was pressed against his steering wheel, but not uncomfortably. At this angle, he could push into her harder, faster. This angle was going to get her off.

“I’m gonna cum,” Hermione whimpered. Her hips rolled ever faster. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Draco was relentless in his pace, steady and controlled. His rhythm didn’t change; he gave her something beautiful to focus on.

“Yes, you are.” He took the tips of his fingers, rubbed them fast over her aching bud. “You’re going to cum so hard, aren’t you, love?”

The pressure between her hips was almost unbearable. She was so tight around him he struggled to move and settled for rocking deep inside of her.

“There,” she gasped, “there, just like that, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

She was frantic; she was going to shatter.

“That’s it, baby,” he cooed as her whole body spasmed. His pace never faltered. “Perfect. Bloody fucking perfect.”

Hermione could hardly hear him for the ringing in her ears. She wasn’t sure if it was the smutty book or the hours-long sexting, but she had come so hard, her muscles hurt - inside and out. She was still catching her breath when he pulled out, spilled his own end all over her stomach and the smooth skin of her mound.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

Hermione dragged her fingers through his cum, gathered as much as she could and, like it were icing, licked it from her hand.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Draco’s head fell back against the seat’s rest. “We can’t stay in this car all night.”

Hermione grinned. “I know.”

She shoved her dress back down, reached over to open the door. Tumbling out in the street, she straightened herself, fixing the skirt and shaking out her curls. Draco righted himself, too, tucking in and buckling. When he made to move out of his car, she gave him an odd look. He paused.

“What?”

“I’m going back in for dinner.” Hermione looked over her shoulder, as if Ginny would be there looking for her. “We’re having drinks after, but I’ll text you if it’s not too late.”

Draco visibly deflated. “So you’re not going to invite me in for one?”

Hermione winced. “Well, it’s girls’ night. It’d be weird if you joined. Not to mention, you’ve fucked everyone I’m with.”

She saw his tongue run over his teeth in agitation. He puffed his cheeks out, releasing a frustrated breath.

“Right,” he settled back into the car. “‘Course. Silly me. Why would this be any more than a quick fuck to get you off?”

Hermione frowned. “Need I remind you of your own orgasm?”

Draco shook his head, huffed a laugh. “No. Have a good night, Hermione. Don’t worry about later - enjoy your time with your friends.”

The door slammed and the car turned on; Draco didn’t even spare her a second glance as he peeled away from the curb. What the fuck was his problem? Hermione straightened her shoulders, and headed back inside.

Chapter Text

Silicone just wasn’t the same. Frustrated, Hermione tossed her rabbit vibrator to the foot of her bed, unbothered but the way it continued it’s soft buzzing and thrusting. Since when could she not get off without Draco Malfoy?

She had been perfectly fine before they’d started this arrangement. Efficient - expedient, even. It was more maintenance than anything, but she had a perfectly healthy physical relationship with herself.

And now she couldn’t even come.

Which wouldn’t be a problem, if Draco wasn’t being a whiny twat about meeting up. The last three times she’d reached out, he had an excuse. Draco never had excuses with her. Ginny had shrugged it off, told her his true colors were bound to show sooner than later, but Hermione refused to believe that to be true. He was just as hungry for her as she was for his cock and she didn’t see why he was giving her the cold shoulder now.

Deep down, she knew it had to do with her dismissal after the car incident, but she couldn’t have rightly invited him in to share a dessert course with three other women who he knew intimately. How strange would that have been? Oh yeah, you all remember Draco right? The one that’s probably seen all of your arseholes?

Hermione sighed, sitting up in her bed. She grabbed her toy and clicked through its seven vibrating patterns until it was blessedly still. It was time to get ready for work anyway.

Grabbing her mobile, she tried once more. You work today?

The response was quick. Yes.

When do you usually take lunch?

Minutes ticked by and her phone didn’t ping with the incoming notification of a response.

“Wanker,” Hermione grumbled to herself, flicking through her closet to pull out an appropriate business casual outfit for a Friday. It had been spitting rain since the early hours of the morning, and she pulled out her water resistant khaki trench coat and tossed it over the back of the armchair in the corner of her room.

She was digging through her haphazard drawer of knickers when her fingers snagged on mesh and genius struck. Draco was stubborn, but Hermione was clever. If he needed a little nudge, she’d give him a shove.

— — —

“Hi, yes, I’m here to see Mr. Malfoy.”

The smartly dressed man at the front desk of the building sniffed as he looked her up and down. She tightened the belt of her coat and shouldered her bag a little higher. His eyes landed once more on the black patent leather heels she was wearing.

“I’ll assume you mean the younger,” he said with a sigh. “Do you have an appointment?”

Hermione gave the man a tight smile. “No, but he’s expecting me.”

The man raised a brow. “I’m sure he is.”

She sighed. “Just tell me how to get to his office, please.”

“Eleventh floor.” The phone rang, and he grabbed the receiver, punching a button to put it on hold. “Big office at the end. Floor to ceiling glass walls.”

She saw the last detail as what it was - a heads up - and she nodded her gratitude before stalking towards the elevator with a purpose and a prayer that there were blinds.

When she reached the eleventh floor, she saw him immediately though the clear glass. His brow was furrowed, his mobile squashed between shoulder and ear as he flipped through a stack of papers on his desk. It was almost funny, seeing him work. She’d kind of always assumed he did more wandering around and playing on his phone than anything actually useful.

Hermione opened the door and he paused mid-sentence, brow furrowing further.

“Uh, yes, Martin - let’s go over that percentage at the start of the week, sure, okay, yeah, bye.”

The last word was forceful.

“What are you doing here?”

Hermione smirked. “You forgot.”

Draco frowned. “Forgot what?”

“Our little arrangement.” She undid the belt of the trench, let it open loosely and reveal what little she was wearing underneath. He gaped at Hermione, greedily drinking in the sight of her in naught but a black thong, mesh garter and stockings, a sheer little slip for a top. He didn’t need to know she’d changed in the loo, sensible skirt and blouse shoved in her bag.

Draco glanced nervously out into the floor ox cubicles, exposed through the glass. “Hermione, I’m not- fuck, this is my office.”

She grinned. “Yes, and thank god there are blinds.”

She tied the belt once more, walking to each wide window panel, tugging the cord that released the coverings to the floor. She left the windows facing the city open.

“Why are you here?” This time, his tone had regained his usual air of swaggering confidence. She shrugged the jacket from her shoulders, let it puddle on the floor.

“I’ve realized that I may have been a little… brash, last weekend.” Draco nodded, and she bit her tongue to keep from rolling her eyes. “So I’ve come to make it up to you.”

“Have you?” He leant back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. “And how do you propose to do that?”

One at a time, she slid the delicate straps of the top from her shoulders, let it flutter down to the floor as well. She stepped out of it.

“Whatever you want.” She sunk carefully to her knees. “It’s yours.”

His pupils swallowed the grey of his eyes. “Aren’t you generous? Perhaps I should hold out on you more often.”

Hermione glared at him. “Maybe the nice gentleman downstairs will help me out if you aren’t interested.”

Draco chuckled and stood from his chair, coming closer to where she knelt for him. “You are very much not Daniel’s type, trust me. Besides, I’d be foolish to waste such a… beautiful opportunity.”

“Yes, you would,” Hermione exhaled, watching as he undid the buckle of his leather belt, slipped the button of his trousers through the hole.

“Think I need a little help.” Draco tutted when she reached for him, halting her progress with fingers around both of her wrists. “Mouth only, please.”

She wanted to curse him, but she wanted to get off even more desperately.

Leaning forward, she parted her lips, tongue flicking at the metal of his zipper pull until it was lifted. Then, she took it gently in her teeth, looking up at him through her lashes as she lowered it carefully.

“You follow direction so well for someone so hell-bent on being so obstinate.” He pushed his boxer briefs down just enough to pull out his cock, already hard and straining in his hand. Hermione whined at the site of him. So close, yet so far.

“Hush,” Draco said gently, slipping a thumb into her mouth to pacify her. He brought a pointer finger to his lips in a shushing motion. “The blinds are down, but the walls are far from soundproof. You’ll need to keep quiet.”

She nodded around his thumb. He pressed it into her tongue until her mouth popped open.

“Mm, just like that.” He replaced his finger with the head of his cock, tapped it teasingly against the furl of her tongue. “Get me wet for you, love.”

Hermione wasted no time in sinking onto him, taking the first couple inches of his shaft into her mouth. She was quick, feral for it, fucking herself onto him. Pulling away, she spat, her hand coming to stroke her saliva onto his skin.

“Fuck,” Draco squeaked at her immediate aggression. His throat bobbed as he sealed hard, trying to regain his self-control. “Fuck, don’t make this end too soon.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, taking him further into her mouth, pushing until he was plugging her throat and the tip of her nose was a hairs breadth away from the skin of his pelvis. She rocked her head back and forth gently and Draco let out a string of expletives.

“Christ, Hermione,” he hissed, pulling out of her mouth quickly. She used her hand to gather the string of saliva connecting her lip to his cock, pumping it onto his length.

“You seem a little pent up,” she said breathlessly, giving the head of him a last suckle. “Probably shouldn’t go so long without.”

“Probably not.” He shoved back into her mouth, fucking it with staccato thrusts until she had to grip onto his thighs to keep from falling back on her arse. 

She gasped for air when he pulled away, holding her back by a fist in her curls.

“But this is fun, isn’t it?” 

She had just enough time to take another breath before he was back on her mouth, in her throat. 

“God, you’re good at this.”

Her eyes watered as his fingers slid down to her throat, stroked gently over the bulge his cock made in the thin skin. Draco groaned, removing himself once more.

“Come here.” He was hoisting her up by her elbows, steadying her as he turned her towards the windows. She felt lightheaded and wild, wet for him without a single caress.

“Hands against the window,” he spoke into her ear, firm hands pressing against the small of her back until she was arching forward with no other option than to catch herself against the glass. He made quick work of the thin black strings of her knickers, helping her to step through them before shoving them in a pocket. He stood and she could feel the damp nestle of him in the cleft of her bum, feel him spread her open with his hands and angle himself to press against her cunt.

“Did you miss this?”

When he pushed his head into her ready hole, she could’ve screamed. Yes, yes, of course she had. Even if it had only been five, six days - there was no replicating the insane stretch of him, the fullness of him seated inside of her to his root. He continued sinking into her, millimeter by devastating millimeter until his blunt head was pressed gently against her cervix.

Hermione whimpered, pressed further into the glass until her breasts were smushed against it, on display for anyone else in an eleventh storey office to see.

“Move,” she pleaded, trying to rock back into him but at a disadvantage, balanced on her stocking toes as she was. “Please, Draco, move.”

He held himself still, hands smoothing over the curve of her hips, down her arms until they covered her own hands pressed against the window. She didn’t even realize when she twined her fingers with his.

“Answer me, and I will.”

What was the question?

He gave the barest rock and the nudge so very deep inside made her sob.

“Yes.” She squeezed herself around him, clenching in a way that made him grunt. “I missed it, I missed it, I need it.”

He pounded into her then. Relentless, unwavering and sure, he gave her long strokes that had her pushing back to meet him, cunt creamy and warm around him.

“So fucking wet,” he bit out, “I said keep quiet, but this perfect pussy is so loud.”

She flushed red at his observation. It was true; every time he impaled her on his cock, the soaked sound echoed in the room.

“Needy little thing,” he hummed, lifting one of her legs until she was spread wide, leg dangling over his forearm. “Look at you taking me so fucking well.”

She was helpless, pressed between him and the glass, held open for his plundering. The angle should’ve been strange, but instead it only highlighted the throbbing ache of her clit, untouched as it was.

“I need to come,” Hermione begged. Her free hand made to slid down the window, to find her center but the nip to her earlobe gave her pause.

“Not yet. Hands on the window.” 

She wanted to defy him, to tell him to go fuck himself.

“Or I won’t get you off at all. Hands on the window, Hermione.”

She growled low in her throat, reluctantly following his instruction.

He used the interaction to slow his pace, to be more precise in his thrusting, making sure she could appreciate every inch of him.

“I missed it.” His voice was so low she almost thought she’d imagined his admission until he said it once more. “I missed it.”

“Missed the way you feel.” He pulled all the way out and she pulsed around nothing.

“Missed the way you smell.” His nose brushed at her neck and she shivered.

“Missed the little noises you make when you need me like this.” He pushed back in to her gaping entrance with ease.

“You do need me, don’t you?”

She would have told him anything in that moment. Anything to fix the gnawing feeling between her thighs, the desperation leaking out of her and dripping down his thick cock. 

“Yes.” Her forehead pressed against the glass and she squeezed her eyes shut so tightly she saw stars. “Please, god, yes, need-“

He laughed at how easily he’d reduced her to stammering stupidity. “Come here then.”

Draco let her leg down, pulled out of her grasping body once more. She spun around just in time to see him swiping his arm across the wooden breadth of his desk, sending files and pens and stationary clattering to the floor. Rather than wait for his directive, she took the initiative to splay herself across the sturdy surface.

Her fingers were between her legs in seconds flat, pressing firmly into her swollen clit to take the edge off.

“You really are a dream,” Draco said with a laugh, hooking her legs over his arms so he could shuffle her down just enough that her bum hung off the edge just so.

When he sunk into her again, the position made her cry out. 

“Shh, baby, shh.” A pale hand clapped over her mouth. “I didn’t even lock the door.”

But how was she supposed to be quiet when this angle had the wide head of him abusing that tender spot just inside? 

His thumb found her clit and rubbed firm circles over the engorged nub.

“Now, you can come,” he said quietly, touching her with steady pressure. “Whenever you’re ready - come.”

She couldn’t hear him. Every atom of her being was laser focused on the coiling of pleasure inside her body, every muscle tightening as she came closer and closer to that blissful precipice. This one was sure to shatter her. She’d never go so long again.

Everything went blank with her orgasm. No thoughts, simply pure feeling as she spasmed on his cock, body seizing at him like it would never let him go.

“So good, so good, so good,” Draco chanted breathlessly, still circling her slick skin. “Keep going, baby, just like that.”

Hermione hardly noticed the wetness dripping down her thighs, splattered on the office’s hardwood floor. She didn’t notice the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, the way her entire body was shaking. She didn’t notice any of it because, against all odds, she was still coming, the first orgasm rolling into a headier second that felt like she was being split in two.

His hips stuttered against her and he was pulling out frantically, tugging himself until he jerked with his own climax, ropes of spend decorating her stomach and mound. Her body still convulsed gently in the aftermath, eyes still tightly shut.

Why was it so good?

Cracking open an eye, she watched Draco unbutton his white Oxford with shaking fingers. He gave her a tiny smile.

“Got a little wet.”

She flushed at the realization.

“Good thing I keep a spare here.” He moved over to a cabinet, pulling out a fresh shirt from the small selection of jackets. “Have you eaten?”

Hermione forced herself up to her elbows, head still spinning. They’d just had absolutely explosive sex and he was concerned about lunch?

“There’s a Mediterranean spot a couple blocks away.” He helped her sit up fully, retrieved her thing from his trousers’ pocket. Handling each ankle delicately, he looped her knickers back over her feet, tugged them gently up her tanned legs. When he got to her bum, she held herself up as he righted them over her hips and cunt.

“What?”

“Oh no,” he said with mock concern, “I’ve fucked you silly, haven’t I?”

That snapped her back to the reality of the situation and she huffed. “I’ve eaten, yeah.”

At her admission, his face fell slightly.

“Ah. ‘Course. What are you doing tonight then? I know it’s usually drinks with Ginny, but-“

“It is.” She slid off of his desk, picked up the pieces of her strewn across the room. “We’re meeting for dinner.”

Draco’s eyes were glued to the floor and she noticed the little puddle she left behind.

“Fuck, sorry-“

“No apologizing.” He grinned. “You must know how insanely hot it is when your body reacts like that to me.”

And she wanted to deny that it was him, but that would be a lie. Ron certainly never inspired such a flood of feeling.

“Anyway,” she began, tugging the trench back on. “I ought to be going. I’ve got to get across town and shower and then meet Gin and-“

“What about tomorrow? Dinner?”

“On a Saturday?”

Draco looked at her as if she were dumb. “Yes, on a Saturday.”

She shook her head. “Cant. Have plans.”

Draco sighed. “Sunday then?”

“I have dinner with my parents.” At the mercurial flashing of his eyes, she instinctively made a small concession. “But I could do lunch?”

“Okay.” He nodded, lips remaining in a blessedly straight line. “That works.”

“Cool.” She backed towards the door. “Great. See you then.”

“Yeah.” But she’d already left the room, door clicking shut behind her. “See you then, Hermione.”

— — —

Sunday dawned cooler than expected, even for July, so Hermione grabbed her red Cambridge hoodie, tugging it over her head as she bounded down the stairs of her apartment building. Draco had agreed to brunch in her neighborhood, and he arrived earlier than expected. She didn’t bother ringing him in.

When she opened the door, she saw him standing across the pavement, hands shoved deep in his pockets, sunglasses perched perfectly on his nose. He looked effortless; it almost took her breath away.

And then she got a whiff of something foul and Malfoy laughed, head nodding down the street.

“Some bloke just let his dog take a massive shit on the sidewalk. Summer in London, right?”

“Gross,” Hermione mumbled, stopping in front of the tall blonde. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way.”

She was glad he didn’t attempt to hold her hand, but he did settle an arm comfortably around her shoulders. Which wasn’t so bad, because that was something her friends did, and no one would ever mistake that for dating. 

“You know, if you had told seventeen year old me I’d be taking you to lunch on a Sunday, he would’ve died.”

Hermione scoffed. “Did you really hate me that much?”

“Quite the opposite.” His fingers brushed against the curve of her arm. “Young me was also fantasizing about fingering you beneath a table.”

Hermione shot an elbow into his ribs and he cackled. 

“Cheap shot, Granger.” His fingers tugged at a loose curl at the nape of her neck. “It’s the truth. The pathetic, horny little truth.”

Hermione snorted. “Well, glad to know you held a candle for me then.”

“Oh, I held much more than a candle.” She’d stopped abruptly, both from the admission and their arrival at the restaurant. Blessedly, the host interrupted Draco from going further, inquiring if they’d like to sit inside, or out.

When they were settled at an outside table and drinks had been ordered, Hermione finally allowed herself to relax. The day was sunny even with the slight chill in the air and the company could certainly be worse. She could count on one hand the amount of times Ron had willingly accompanied her for brunch.

Draco’s foot knocked against hers and she looked up to find him smiling at her.

“What?”

He shrugged. “Just thinking I can’t really finger you from all the way over here.”

She kicked his shin. “Oh my god, shut up! We’re in public.”

“Didn’t stop you last week, now did it?” He waggled his eyebrows as he took a sip from his pint. “Maybe if I really reach-“

His fingers brushed her bare knee cap and she grabbed them in her own, squeezing them in a warning crush.

“What? I haven’t gotten to touch you in a whole thirty-six hours now,” Draco pouted and Hermione bit her lip to keep from smiling.

“If you’re a very good boy, maybe I’ll invite you up when you walk me home,” she winked, already planning how she could get off in the least amount of time before rushing to her parents’ for dinner.

“I’ll behave.” Draco looked down to the menu. “If I get avocado toast, will you have some?”

It was almost too normal, the way the day progressed. Draco filled the space with lots of aimless chatter, that Hermione couldn’t help but find comfortable. They seemed to have more in common than just an insatiable lust for one another and that was nice, if only mildly unsettling. Hermione gathered a bead of condensation from her champagne flute of mimosa and sniffed distractedly. The words of her friends seeped into her thoughts, accusations and complaints and warnings. She stabbed at her salad with her fork.

“What did the kale do to you?,” Draco snorted. He reached his own fork over to stab into a plump strawberry. “Oh, did you hear about that new interactive gallery opening-“

But Hermione wasn’t listening. Two women had just walked in and she recognized them immediately - Padma and Parvati Patil, same year as them in school. Gorgeous, shining black hair, wide smiles of perfect straight teeth, thick lashes around almond shaped eyes and Daphne’s words were ringing in her ears.

“He’d always fantasized about being with two sisters at once.”

“Do you remember the Patil twins?”

Draco slowed in chewing a bite of his toast, swallowing before answering. “Yeah, why?”

“They’ve just walked in.” Hermione nodded in their direction and Draco looked over his shoulder.

“Oh. Yeah, it is them. Haven’t seen them in years.”

Hermione hummed. “Me either. They look really good. I always thought they were beautiful.”

Draco shrugged, wiping at the corners of his mouth with his linen napkin.

“Don’t you think?”

He glanced over his shoulder again. “Yeah, sure. They’re good looking women.”

“I wonder if they’re kinky.”

Draco nearly choked on his lager. “Are you going to go proposition them?”

“Nah,” Hermione shook her head. “Just thinking…”

“Oh?” Draco watched her with rapt attention now.

“Yeah.” She slugged back the last of her bubbly drink. “I heard you’ve always wanted to fuck sisters, and now’s your chance.”

His face soured. Hermione tried to hold his gaze but it was hard, the unfriendliest she’d ever seen him. She watched as his tongue slid over his teeth beneath his lip, poked into his cheek. Then, he began to nod slowly, a sardonic little laugh slipping out.

“Alright.” He dug in his pocket, extracting a slim leather wallet, plucking out several big bills and setting them down on the table. “I get it.”

When he stood, Hermione fully expected him to head in the direction of the twins. Which, really, made her chest feel a little tight, but this was Draco Malfoy she was dealing with, and it’d probably be good to encourage him to sleep with other people lest they both become too attached.

“I’m done.”

The words felt strange as she absorbed them. It was like acid in her stomach, burning and unfamiliar.

“No one likes to be used, Hermione.” He shoved both hands in his pockets, shoulders sagging. “Not even me.”

“But-“

He shook his head. “It’s cool. No need to explain yourself. I’m just… done.”

He motioned towards the notes on the table. “Should be enough. Take care, Hermione.”

As she watched him walk away, she couldn’t help but notice something inside of her cracking, some defense she’d unknowingly built tumbling down, down, down.

Chapter Text

“Oh, he likes you.” Daphne stretched out her leg, wiggled her toes. “Ugh, the bottle said ‘ballet slipper’ but it’s really a little more peachy than that, isn’t it?”

Hermione blinked. She looked down at Daphne’s tanned toes and then to her furrowed brow. Her fingers curled tighter around the stem of her wine glass, knuckles fading into white.

Hermione blinked again. “Wait. Can we go back to what you just said?”

Daphne looked up from her perch on Hermione’s couch, surprised. “What? I think it was ‘ballet slipper’. Actually - no, you’re right, I did switch last minute to ‘sunset stunner’, but-“

“Daphne.” 

The blonde paused. 

“I meant, can we go back to the part where you believe, somehow, that ultimate playboy slag, Draco Malfoy, likes me?”

Daphne shrugged. “Sure. He does. I think that’s obvious. The real question is, what are you going to do about it?”

Hermione scoffed. “Nothing. Obviously. Because he doesn’t actually like me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, for starters-“ Hermione stopped short. “Well, he- he-“

Daphne watched her patiently, saying nothing.

“He never told me he liked me.”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Okay, but he literally did everything in his power to make it obvious.”

Hermione sputtered. “Like what?”

“Like buying you books. Trying - relentlessly, might I add - to take you to dinner.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” There was a pregnant pause and Hermione thought of all the conversations, the times he’d tried to join in her plans, insert himself into her life. She thought of the disappointed look on his face as he told her it was over - like it actually hurt him to do it.

It hurt him to do it. Draco Malfoy had feelings. He had feelings and they were for her.

“Daphne.” Hermione met her friend’s expectant gaze. “I think I fucked it all up.”

“Oh, you definitely did. More wine?”

Hermione shook her head. Daphne hopped up, sashayed her way to the kitchen to fix herself another glass. She rummaged through Hermione’s fridge for a bit, popped a couple white grapes into her mouth before she realized the other woman still hadn’t said anything.

“Hermione?”

The brunette looked awestruck. It all clicked suddenly, aggressively, like a sucker punch.

“It’s not a big deal,” Daphne shrugged. “You got exactly what you wanted. Great sex, a little bit of spoiling. He had it coming.”

Somehow it didn’t feel so sweet. It wasn’t so simple. The realization that she had hurt Draco was enough to make her a little nauseous, but there was a worse epiphany lingering in the corners of her brain, seeping slowly forward with every passing second.

“Oh no.” Daphne set her wine glass down on Hermione’s island with a clink. “You like him, too.”

There it was.

“Yes.”

“I say this with love, Hermione, but you’re an idiot.”

Hermione sighed, because it was true. She’d been so committed to avenging his wrongs, she hadn’t noticed when he’d tried to atone for them himself. It was easy to ignore all the nice things when she’d spent so much time going over the minute details of what made Draco horrible. In actuality, he hadn’t been horrible to her at all. It had been so easy to push him away, rather than confront the every-growing evidence pointing towards her own nascent infatuation.

“The good news is,” Daphne continued after a moment, “Draco is also an idiot. Which might be your saving grace here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he’ll probably be willing to give you another chance - if you make it appealing enough.”

Hermione’s first instinct was to revert to their most favored playing field - sex. But that wouldn’t do. Not this time. That was how she’d lost him; she needed to meet him at his level, match his energy.

“A sailboat.”

Daphne choked on a sip of wine. “You can’t buy him a boat.”

Hermione snorted. “No. Of course not. Besides, he doesn’t need one. But, if I rent one, and take him for a sail, we’ll have time, just the two of us to talk. And that’s what we did the first time, so maybe-“

Daphne didn’t look convinced. “You’re going to learn to sail? To take him out on one trip?”

Hermione shrugged. “I watched him do it. It’s not that complicated.”

— — —

Draco looked to the sky and Hermione ached with how handsome he was. How she had managed to fool herself for so long was beyond her.

“We shouldn’t go.”

She took a deep, calming inhale. It had nearly killed her, pleading with him to go - giving him a litany of reasons why being in her presence for one solitary Saturday wouldn’t kill him. She’d gone as far as to actually say just that - it won’t kill you, come on, it’s one afternoon. If he bailed now, she may actually stomp her feet and cry.

“It’s fine.” She shouldered the picnic bag she’d brought along. “We’ve got the boat for three hours and I did a lesson-“

“It’s just that cloud.” Draco pointed off to the horizon, which was slowly darkening. Hermione fought to not roll her eyes. It was England; a bit of rain would hurt no one.

“Ah, that’s nothing. Besides, I’m sure we’ll be back before any weather even hits. I looked at the forecast - it’s only a sprinkle.”

Without waiting to hear what he had to say in response, Hermione hopped off of the dock and onto the well-loved sailboat she rented for the day. Well-loved, because it was a much older model than the one Draco had taken her out on. When she had first seen it, there were concerns about it even remaining afloat, but she wasn’t rich and this fit the budget and would have to work. Besides, she was hoping that soon enough Draco would be paying little attention to the boat at all.

Draco followed suit and the boat rocked uneasily at his added weight. “Hermione, are you-“

“Yes. I am.”

She stole away into the tiny cabin, setting the bag near the vintage looking stove. The space allowed her another calming breath. This was fine. Everything was fine. She could do this.

Coming back onto the deck, she forced a big smile. Draco didn’t return it - instead he stood with his hands shoved in his trouser pockets, looking just as stormy as the weather he anticipated.

“Help me untie, would you?”

He did so with little fanfare. The silence between them was beginning to make her uncomfortable, making her question if she’d made the right decision after all. Daphne’s words echoed in her head.

You only get one shot at this.

She’d meant at life, but Hermione had a feeling this was the last chance she’d have with Draco too. She had to make him see.

The old boat rocked away from the dock, a light breeze carrying through the unfurled sails. As the boat was much older than Draco’s, there was no motor, but the wind was enough to carry them slowly out to sea. Hermione stayed relatively close to shore, using the peeling steering wheel to control the rudder. After several long moments, she settled into a cruising sail.

Draco still hadn’t said a word.

“So.” She looked to where he sat on the ratty bench seating. “How have you been?”

“Oh, spare me, Hermione. Don’t insult me with small talk.”

She sighed. This was going to be more difficult than she anticipated.

“If you’re going to be miserable, I don’t know why you agreed.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Trust me, I’ve been questioning it since I stepped on this godforsaken death trap.”

Her jaw ached with how hard she was clenching her teeth. “I just wanted a nice afternoon. A relaxing sail.”

“It’s cloudy and cold. We won’t even get a sunset.”

“I don’t control the weather!”

Draco raised a brow at her outburst. “I don’t know why you wanted me here.”

A gust of wind blew her curls into her eyes, her affronted open mouth. She spat them out inelegantly.

“When we saw each other last-“

“When I took you to brunch and you encouraged me to fuck other women.”

Hermione made a small groan of discontent. “Yes, that. I didn’t realize at the time-“

A droplet of water landed on her nose. Probably a bit of the sea, as they were really slicing through the waves now. She brushed it away.

“I didn’t realize how that would offend you. I just thought-“

A clap of thunder had both of their eyes going wide.

“Turn the boat around, Hermione.”

She shook her head vehemently. “It’s alright, only a bit of thunder.” The wind had picked up only slightly, but nothing she couldn’t handle. The boat cruised a little faster, but the breeze felt nice. “When I said that, I wasn’t thinking-“

“Clearly not.”

“Will you just listen to me?!” Her words were punctuated by a bright flash of lightning. Everything went eerily silent.

“Hermione. We’ve got to go back.”

“No!” She fought to keep the steering wheel from pitching in one direction on a sudden gust. Thunder broke the air. “It’s really okay!”

“It’s a fucking squall!”

As if on cue, the heavens opened up around them. An omen - yet to be determined whether bad or good. Rain came down in sheets, slicking everything until her hands were hard pressed to hold onto the wheel. Draco had sprung into action, coming behind her to help keep the boat steady as it pitched back and forth. The rain was so heavy she could hardly see a few yards ahead of the boat and she quickly realized how dire the situation was, how foolhardy she’d been to think she could handle it.

“We have to stay straight! We can’t get pushed from the shoreline! Need to watch for rocks, too!”

Though he was right behind her, his voice was muted by the all encompassing sound of the downpour. Her fingers ached with the strength of her grip, growing tighter with each frightening snap of the sails in the wind. She was soaked to the bone and her teeth had started to chatter. The tiny vessel lurched and Hermione’s knees buckled, sending her crumbling to the deck.

A strong arm around her waist hoisted her upright, Draco spitting out expletives.

“Give me five seconds, Hermione! Hold on as tight as you can!”

She was grateful for the rain now because it hid the fact that she was crying. This had been a mistake. Not only was she pretty sure they were going to die, she wouldn’t get the chance to say how she felt. To die with a love unrequited sounded romantic, but in reality it made her cry harder.

A rope around her waist pulled her from her spiral.

“I’m tying us both to the center console!” She felt his hand slip in her pocket. “My knife. It’s clipped to your pocket! If we capsize, cut yourself free.”

“What about you?” She looked over her shoulder at him, found stony grey eyes that conveyed little emotion.

“I’ll try to untie. I’m a strong swimmer. Don’t worry about me.”

The boat swayed again, a wave crashing over the deck, soaking through their trainers. She felt herself slipping again, a knee knocking into the fiberglass of the console. Hermione hiccoughed a sob. 

“I’m sorry!”

“Little late for that, isn’t it?” His hands found hers, covering them and squeezing them tighter. “We’ll be fine! Don’t worry.”

“No! For everything!”

This wasn’t how she wanted to do this - half screaming through her admission, but if they were going to die - well, now was as good a time as any.

“Maybe we should talk about this once we get through this!”

Hermione shook her head. “In case we don’t - I-I have to tell you!”

They pitched forward, Draco’s body slamming her against the wheel until it dig uncomfortably against her ribs. She could feel the heaving rise and fall of his chest, the panic in his breath. He was heavy against her but a part of her didn’t want him to move. 

“Hermione-“

“I’m in love with you!” 

The storm raged on, but there was no way he didn’t hear her loud proclamation. He moved away from her and her heart broke.

But then his palm was on her jaw, turning her to face him.

“What?” His eyes were searching her face and it was like the universe knew and the rain lightened just enough that she didn’t have to scream. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and cheeks, shirt sticking to her like a second skin. She had to do it.

“I’m in love with you. And I was an asshole, I know! But so were you, to so many women-“

Draco watched her in disbelief, hand finding the wheel once more. “Yeah, I was.”

“But I love you. Regardless, and maybe because of it. You were never that to me.”

“I didn’t want to be.” 

The boat slowed in its fretful rocking, beginning to level out, though neither seemed to take notice, locked into the moment as they were.

“I was scared,” he continued, “really scared of commitment for a long time. And then I met you.”

Hermione scoffed. “You still have work to do, you know.”

“I know. What was it you were saying? That you’re in love with me?”

Hermione rolled her eyes as the rain faded to a gentle misting. “Yes. I am. I can’t explain it, but maybe that’s what makes it real. I just… know.”

For the first time that day, Draco smiled.

“I think I knew the moment I sat next to you on Cho’s roof.”

Hermione snorted. “You liked my tits in that dress .”

“That, too. But I liked your banter. Your confidence. I knew that if I wanted you I had to do it differently.”

Hermione turned to him and pushed her hair away from her face. She looked down at her soaked jeans and his white tee shirt, rendered completely see through from the rain. The rope laid thick in a pile at their feet, still attached to both of their waists. What a pair they were.

 “Well, I think it’s safe to say we’ve done this very differently.”

Draco began to laugh and it was contagious. The world lightened around them to a golden grey, the air still damp with the retreating storm.

“I thought we were going to die.” Hermione clutched his biceps and leant her forehead against his chest. “I really thought that was it.”

“Me too,” Draco chuckled. He continued to steer the boat around her. “Don’t for a second think we won’t be having a sailing safety conversation in the very near future.”

“Speaking of-“ Hermione spun around, squinting in the direction of land. “I’m not quite sure where we are.”

Draco sighed and looked towards the shoreline. “We had to have blown pretty far off course. Looks like there’s a dock not too far off, maybe we can snag a slip while we try to figure it out.”

Hermione pulled her mobile out of her pocket, cringing at the black screen with a technicolor line going through the center. “I suppose it’s not as waterproof as advertised. Would you untie me?”

Firm hands found the knot at her waist and began to diligently and skillfully unravel her. She couldn’t help but blush every time his knuckles brushed against her stomach, nearly bare with the slick fit of her shirt. She shivered.

“We should dock and get out of these clothes. Try and figure out where we are. With the wind going against us, it’ll be slow going back.” Draco glanced to his expensive wristwatch, thankfully spared from water damage. “And we’ve only a couple hours before the sun sets.”

The rest of the rope dropped to the deck around her feet and he kicked it away.

“We would have to go back through the storm.”

“Possibly.” Draco’s teeth nipped into his bottom lip as he looked over his shoulder. “Might be best to stay here for the night. Why don’t you go see if there are towels in the cabin and I’ll get us to the dock?”

When she was finally alone in the cabin, Hermione allowed herself to feel the gamut of emotions. Relieved, that they were alive and relieved that he knew how she felt. Confused, that he hadn’t said it back and where they would go from here. Annoyed, that they were lost and probably stuck in some small beachside town for the night, who knows how far from home.

She rummaged through old wooden cabinets, finding two dingy striped beach towels that would have to suffice. As she peeled herself out of her soaked clothes, she felt the boat slow to a halt, bump gently into the pilings. Draco’s feet were expert and light as he danced across the deck of the boat, mooring them in the slip.

After drying her body first, she moved to the damp mass of her curls, wrapped them up in the towel and giving a firm squeeze.

“Looks like it’s someone’s private dock, but I don’t think it’s been used for years. We should be fine to- oh.”

Hermione startled. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you’d be done so quickly.”

Draco blinked. She was facing him, towel piled on her head, entirely and unavoidably nude.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Her smile was nervous. “Yeah.”

His eyes traced her body, from the tips of her toes to her curious brown eyes. They both were waiting.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

“Of course you are, now that I’m naked.”

“That helps, but it’s certainly the least important reason why I am.” 

They stared at one another for a long moment and Hermione realized he wanted her to make the first move. It felt like uncharted territory, though it was where they were most familiar.

He ended up breaking first anyway.

“I want to touch you. So badly, Hermione. But I don’t want-“

She didn’t wait for him to finish. She closed the few feet left between them, threw her arms around his neck - sealed her mouth to his. 

His clothes were cool against her skin and she was nearly burning up. His palms were firm at her waist, pressing her closer as if they would eventually meld into one.

“Off,” she mumbled into his lips, small hands scrabbling under his shirt and against his chest, pushing the soaked fabric up. He tore it over his head with one hand, the cotton making a wet slap against the floor as it fell.

“More,” she begged, fumbling at the button of his trousers. Those were easily discarded too their lips skillfully never parting. Her fingers were tangled in the damp strands of is hair like she could force him closer through sheer will alone.

“I missed you,” he admitted softly as he moved her back to the small double bed the cabin was outfitted with. “More than I wanted to and more than I wanted you to know.”

“We are so stupid.” Her knees hit the bed and she pulled him down on top of her. “I feel like we’ve wasted so much time.”

“We have all the time in the world.”

He settled himself above her, lifted up on an elbow to cup her cheek in his palm, study the face he loved. “I do love you.”

“I love you too.” She rocked her hips against his eagerly. “And I love doing this. With you.”

His hand curled around her hip, stilled her against the bed. “We are rather good at it.”

She lifted herself up enough to kiss him. “Yes, so if you’d just-“

Her hips slid against him again.

“Not yet.”

Hermione pouted. “Why not?”

“Because I want to take my time.” Draco leaned down, pursed his lips around her pebbled nipple and gave a quick, teasing suckle. “We’ve done a lot of this on your terms.”

She squirmed under him, subconsciously arching towards him when he pulled away.

He chuckled. “And I want to be a little selfish. I want to enjoy you.”

His tongue found her other nipple, circling it with a slow and warm precision. She couldn’t help but gasp.

“You’re so sensitive. I love that, too.”

He alternated between her breasts, alternated between suckling and flicking his tongue, getting her messy with his saliva. He forced them together in his palms, placing open mouthed kisses to her skin.

“Do you think I could get you off like this?,” he asked and her fist pounded against the mattress.

“I don’t think I’m patient enough to find out,” she groaned and he laughed.

“Not today. I know. I can feel how wet you are on my thigh.”

She hadn’t even known she was slowly humping his leg like a desperate little thing.

“I know what you need. Just wait a little longer for me.”

A hand slid between their bodies, sure fingers slipping between the folds of her lips, dragging wetness to her clit.

“I want to taste you first.”

She could’ve whined at his refusal. Didn’t he know how she ached for him?

He brought his fingers to his mouth, savored her on his tongue. She watched diligently as he licked himself clean of her.

“Now?”

He shook his head. “Of course not.”

He worked his way down her body, settling comfortably between her thighs. Her knees fell wide against the bed and she shifted her hips as close to his mouth as she could. He nipped at her thigh.

“You smell like heaven.” He inhaled deeply and she flushed. “I touched myself to the thought of this so much.”

“Did you?”

His affirmative was moaned into her cunt. She sighed as he began his slow devouring, tongue focusing on her clit with a steady and sure intention. He built her up with quick flickers of the tip of his tongue only to calm her with slowed circles. By the third round, she protested.

“Draco, please!”

He shushed her gently. “You’ll be patient for me, darling.”

His thumb stroked over her clit softly as he kissed her thigh. “I need you to trust that I’ll give you what you need when you need it.”

Hermione swallowed, nodded.

“You’re always so wet for me.” A finger tip circled her eager hole, pushed just barely inside. “I love how responsive you are.”

Grey eyes studied his slow movements, watched as he pushed in to the first knuckle and slowly dragged back out. Hermione was panting.

“And you grip me so tight. Every time. Like you want to keep me inside of you forever.”

“I do.” She rode his finger delicately, lest he stop at her eagerness. “I swear, I do.”

Another finger settled deep inside. His slow movements amplified the sounds her body made, lewdly squelching.

“You’re so beautiful.” He kissed her clit and it wasn’t even close to what she needed.

“I’m trying.” Her voice cracked. “But- please, I can’t-“

His fingers curled and she was perilously close to an orgasm from the internal stimulation alone. She’d been teetering on the edge of it for longer than she cared to, and the need to come was starting to trump every other feeling.

“You can come if you’d like, but it’s going to be like this.”

He didn’t move any faster, just sure strokes of his fingers inside of her. She could feel that she was dripping embarrassingly onto the bed.

“Just a bit faster,” she exhaled as she tightened around him. It wasn’t enough. It was nearly too much.

“It’s okay. You can come like this.”

Her head thrashed against the bed. “I need more. Please, Draco.”

He didn’t falter in his pace and when she finally rolled into her orgasm, it almost hurt in its never ending pulsations. It went on and on and on and she eventually realized the high keening sound was her.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” He kept at his movements, not yielding though her delicate fingers had wrapped around his wrist. “You’re still coming, aren’t you?”

She couldn’t even nod though she was. Her body was still squeezing at him, baring down in a way that she knew would have to release soon. It moved in a slow trickle over his fingers when she finally let go, a gush that wet the bed and his palm and subsequently his lips when he buried his face against her once more. The immediate attention to her clit sent her spiraling back to square one, and she came harder the second time.

When she finally slowed in her writhing, Draco was waiting patiently for her, his cheek resting against the inside of her thigh.

“You okay?”

She brushed her fingers through his hair. “More than.”

“I’d really like to fuck you now.”

Hermione tightened at the thought. She almost made to protest, but Draco was climbing slowly back up her body, kissing any doubts away. When she felt the head of his cock press against her entrance, she grasped his face in both hands.

“You really love me?”

Draco nodded. “I do.”

An inch of him sunk inside.

“I really love you, too.”

“I know.” He seated himself to the hilt.

Their exhale was mutual, a sigh of relief.

“Don’t push me away again.” He kissed the gentle curve of bone below her eye. “I want to be yours.”

Hermione’s hands slid around his waist, pulled him closer. “You’re mine.”

Draco winced and she paused. “You okay?”

He nodded slowly. “More than. I’m just.. trying to last.”

Her nails dug into the sensitive skin of his bum teasingly. “You don’t have to.”

“And ruin my playboy reputation? As if.”

Hermione laughed. “I’m sure you could get me off again, but you’ll have to move faster than this.”

He heeded her teasing advice, rolled his hips into her a little faster. “Fuck, you’re soaking.”

Settling back on his knees, Draco smoothed his hands along Hermione’s calves, pushing gently until she folded in on herself and her knees were to her chest.

“Now, there’s a gorgeous sight.”

At this angle he wasn’t as deep but everything felt more snug. Her thighs were closer together and she felt like she was being almost stretched to her limit in the most delicious way. He skillfully fucked the first few inches of himself in and out of her cunt, hitting that lovely spot just inside.

“I’m close,” he gasped, thumb finding the bead of her clit and stroking over it hurriedly. “Please, love, please-“

“I’m coming!”

She grasped at him helplessly, pulling him down to her until their foreheads were pressed together and he was whimpering through his own much anticipated release. Their tempo slowed and their breathing evened. He pressed a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“I’ve never had a girlfriend before.” 

The admittance was quiet and not without a healthy amount of concern. Like Hermione might turn him away at the discovery. As if she could, now.

“I’ve never dated a spoiled brat.”

He scoffed at that. “I’m not-“

She raised a brow.

“Alright. So it will be a bit of a learning curve for us both.”

Hermione hummed her agreement, hands smoothing across the meanly muscled plane of his back, coming to toy with the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Speaking of curves..”

Draco smirked. “Again?”

She grinned. “Again. And probably again after that.”

— — —

The sound of gulls woke them. That, and the slowly warming heat of an early morning sun coming through two small porthole windows. The boat was barely rocking in its slip, and Hermione yawned, snuggling herself closer to Draco’s chest with the intent of drifting back to sleep for a bit. 

A wide palm squeezing the bare cheek of her arse halted any ideations of sleep.

“Sore,” she mumbled into the pale skin of his chest. He dropped a kiss to the crown of her head.

“Overdid it, did we?”

“A bit.” She yawned again. “But I’m sure if you-“

A familiar buzzing made her pause. “What’s that?”

“Oh. Ah.” Draco sat up in the small bed, carefully disentangled himself from under her smaller frame. “My mobile.”

She watched his bum as he crossed the small room, letting the words sink in. When he picked up the phone, she frowned.

“Yeah. Thanks. An hour works. Yes, okay. Bye.”

He tossed it back on the counter and rejoined her in bed.

“You’ve had your phone this whole time?”

Draco looked at her carefully. “Yes? I figured you knew that.”

Hermione sat up on her elbow. “You mean to tell me we could’ve called for help last night? We could’ve been home by now?”

Draco lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Sure. But then we would’ve missed out on everything that happened.” He tugged a curl hanging by her face. “Which I’m rather grateful to have experienced, by the way.”

“I made you eat the worlds saddest sandwich for dinner.”

Draco snorted. “That you made with love and care. Besides, I’m trying to be less of a- what was it you called me? Spoiled brat.”

At the teasing curve of his lips, she couldn’t help but soften.

“I guess it’s a bit sweet.” She lowered herself against him once more, noting the persistent press of him ready against her abdomen. “How much time do you reckon we have before we’re towed out of here?”

“At least forty-five minutes.”

Her fingers found his length, wrapped around it firmly. “I think we can make this work.”

He kissed her, because it was important and it didn’t matter that they both had morning breath and had spent the night on a tiny little dinghy after almost dying. When he responded, she knew he meant more and she smiled.

“I think we can.”