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What doesn't kill me makes me want you more

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"I don't care that Mclaggan said it would be ready today. He's not the director of the DMLE, I am, and I say it won't be ready till Monday."

Draco couldn't hear the person on the other end of the Floo, but he imagined they were squirming under Granger's stern gaze and tugging at their shirt collar nervously; he would know. He'd been at the end of that Floo call on more than one occasion.

He cleared his throat when he'd looked his fill of his bosses pert arse and when she waved a hand towards the empty chairs before her desk, he crossed the room and dropped into one.

He was flicking through a wedding magazine he'd lifted from her desk when she dropped into her own chair.

"Didn't know you were into this sort of thing, Granger," he said, flicking his eyes in her direction as he smirked.

She leaned forward and snatched the magazine from him.

"It's for Ginny's wedding."

"Ahh right," he said, nodding. He leaned back and laced his fingers across his chest as he met her eye. "So, what can I do for you? I thought my memo was pretty clear. We're going to need the pensieve memory of the original arrest and interview before Jameson was released on bail—"

"It's not about that," Hermione interjected quickly. She tossed an obviously rumpled memo across the table towards him and ducked her head, flicking through a case file instead of looking at him.

"Then what's it about?" Draco asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He unfolded the note and felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Oh

Oh no

"This isn't what it looks like." The words fell from his mouth automatically even though it was quite obviously, exactly what it looked like.

Hermione snorted and met his eye, one eyebrow lifted high on her forehead. "You didn't send me, your superior, an incredibly inappropriate memo detailing the when, where and how you were going to—" she cleared her throat and stared studiously at her nails, "—remove my underwear with your teeth and show me exactly what your forked tongue can do?"

"Fuck me!" Draco groaned, screwing his eyes shut and dropping his head back with a thunk as it bounced against the back of the chair.

"Yes," Hermione said and Draco could hear the amusement in her voice, "I think that was the general idea."

"I mixed the memo's up," he said, peeking at her through one squinty eye. "I didn't mean to send you that."

Hermione nodded and cleared her throat. "Of course not, though I should probably remind you that it's a breach of conduct code 52.B to send explicit messages through the Ministry's Interdepartmental memo system."

"Right, yeah, of course," Draco replied, wondering if he could somehow slip his wand from within his robes and vanish himself through the floor.

"Not to mention," Hermione continued, oblivious to his discomfort, "that a memo like this is a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen."

"It's not—" he cleared his throat and sat up straight, meeting her eye once more, "I wasn't sending it to a female co-worker. Well not on purpose," he corrected, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Well, that's good then. I imagine that Astoria would have plenty to say if you were—"

Draco snorted and Hermione broke off, staring at him expectantly.

"We broke up."

"Oh." She paused and began shuffling a series of papers. "Well, thats… I'm sorry." She winced and Draco almost forgot why he had been summoned to her office in the first place.

He smirked and waved a hand between them. "It's fine," he said instead. "Regardless, I was sending the memo to Blaise."

Both her eyebrows lifted at that and Draco snorted, then proceeded to choke back a laugh.

"Merlin, no, not like that—I," he sighed and pinched the brow of his nose. "Blaise has this whole sex god debonaire attitude, but really he's a mess."

"Blaise Zabini?" She looked decidedly skeptical. Draco didn't blame her. "The man who for the past six years has been trying on a weekly basis to lure me into a broom closet with a well placed innuendo and a wink, has trouble with the ladies?"

Draco blinked and leaned forward, elbows balancing on his knees. "Blaise was trying it on with you in Hogwarts?"

She blushed but pointed at the memo. "Explain."

"He's a cocky bastard but he loses that self confidence when he's alone and forced to be himself. So, sometimes he has me write him pointers. Tips, if you will, to aid in his sexting endeavours."

Hermione blinked at him, the tops of her cheeks flushing a bright red and Draco was suddenly struck by the realisation that Blaise had sent her some of these at one point in her life and now he couldn't help but wonder which ones.

And what had she done with them.

Had she burned them? Indignant with rage at his presumption.

Had she kept them. Tucked them between the pages of her textbook and under the privacy of her curtains read them at night?

Had she slipped her hand between her thigh and brought herself off to the thought of Blaise's tongue—

He blinked and unclenched his fist from where he had been digging it into the arm of his chair. "So…"

"Yeah. That's ahh—thats fine then Malfoy. You can…."

"I'll just—" He lifted himself out of his chair and exited her office, cursing his best friend.


"It's not funny."

"It's fucking hilarious. I can't—and she just?"

"She warned me about the possibility of a sexual harassment complaint and was under the impression I was still in a relationship with Astoria." Draco shuddered and Blaise snorted.

"She can't have been that bad?"

Draco shook his head and supped at his Firewhisky. "Maybe not but—"

"I get it," Blaise said, chuckling. He swigged at his beer and Draco ran his finger over the rim of his glass, distracted by the days events, and wondering, as he glanced around the crowded Leaky Cauldron and spotted all of Granger's usual cohorts, just where the curly headed brunette witch was.

"Do you have it then?" Blaise eventually asked, snapping Draco from his thoughts. He drained his firewhisky with a wince and stared at Blaise.

"Have what?"

"The memo?"

"Oh," he thought back to where he'd left it lying on Granger's desk as he'd begged the universe to swallow him whole and shook his head. "No, I—I must have forgotten it."

"Well," Blaise said, jerking his head towards Draco but staring pointedly over his shoulder. "Do you think you could whip something up quick for me now? I don't want Hannah—"

"Haley," Draco corrected, taking the napkin that Blaise had slid across the table towards him. He transfigured a quill from Blaise's discarded cocktail umbrella and quickly scribbled a few dirty pick up lines that would see his friend through the evening.

"—thinking that I forgot about her."

"Of course not," Draco said, standing from the booth and pressing the napkin into Blaises palm. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Doesn't leave me a whole lot of options," Blaise called after him.

Draco smirked as he approached the fireplace, glancing around once more just in case, before he stepped into the empty grate and, dropping a handful of Floo Powder at his feet, shouted his destination.


Draco had the wherewithal to land on his feet when he stumbled out of the Floo and into Hermione Granger's living room.

He gripped the mantlepiece, eyes flicking quickly over the myriad of photos that decorated it but lingering on the one of the two of them; Head Students sandwiched between their respective Heads of Houses on the last day of school.

He couldn't have looked more bored if he tried but Hermione—

Hermione was grinning at the camera, her eyes alight with joy as she bounced on the balls of her feet and only Mcgonagall's tight grip of her shoulder kept her from bounding away.

"Harry, I already told you I'm not—"

The sound of her voice startled him and he turned, quickly, taking the framed photo of the two of them with him as he spun around to meet her.

Draco would blame the four Firewhisky he'd downed on arrival to the pub not even an hour ago, for the way he stood there, uninvited, and openly gawking at the sight of his colleague and sometimes friend, in nothing but a silk bathrobe that did little to cover her up.

Though, she quickly pulled it closed when she caught his eyes lingering on her cleavage.

"Malfoy," she began, frowning at him in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"The memo," he said, finally lifting his eyes to meet hers. "I was wondering if you had it? I think I left it on your desk but then I don't think you're the kind of woman to leave something like that out in the open for anyone to see and—"

"You're right," she said, nodding her head in agreement. "I'm not." She gestured towards the sofa and across the room and nudged her head in the direction of the drinks trolley in the corner. "Make yourself at home and I'll go get it."

Draco tried not to watch her arse when she turned on her heel and disappeared from view, but it was difficult.

"Get your shit together, Malfoy," he said, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he crossed the room and poured both of them two fingerfuls of whiskey—Muggle, but the good stuff according to the label.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he'd at least finished his drink, when Hermione returned and thrust the note into his hand without looking at him.

Draco nodded his thanks as he passed her own drink to her; his tongue flicked absentmindedly over his lips when she dropped onto the sofa, legs curled up beneath her and her robe pulled up to expose the bare expanse of her thigh.

Hermione coughed into her drink and startled him.

"Sorry," he said lowly. He could feel the tips of his cheeks heating and dropped his eyes to the note she'd passed him.

"So, I was thinking that we could ask Harry to bring Jameson back in on Monday—" Draco knew she was speaking to him, but he could only hear the blood rushing in his head. His fingers were trembling as he stared down at the note she'd passed him; one he hadn't seen in years.

Because it wasn't the one he'd accidentally sent her earlier that day.

But, it was most definitely his handwriting.

"—I know that Harry was suspicious of him because of how confident he was and—" Hermione was still speaking.

"Granger," Draco said, clearing his throat and meeting her eye. He proffered the note. "This isn't' it."

"What are you talking about?" She asked.

She leaned forward, reaching for the note hanging between them and Draco bit back a groan at the tantalising amount of cleavage suddenly on display and he couldn't stop the barrage of thoughts.

How flustered she'd looked when he'd showed up.

How flushed and tense and—

She took the note from him and blushed bright red. Her mouth dropped open as her eyes widened. Draco watched her swallow as he stood and began to approach her.

"Tell me Granger—" he jerked his head at her hand, "—why do you have that?"

"I...I—Malfoy what are you doing?"

He'd dropped to his knees at her feet. He grasped her ankles, and gently stroked the skin of her leg with his fingertips. He looked up at her and resisted the urge to surge forwards and kiss that dumbstruck look off her face.

"Tell me why you had that note. Tell me why, on the same day you found out that I'm the one who wrote them all, that you were reading one I wrote years ago."

His fingers skated higher, teasing the curve of her knees as he leaned forward and brushed a barely there kiss on her left knee.

"I...I—" Her fingers clenched in his hair but she didn't push him away and Draco smirked, face hidden in the flesh of her thigh.

He schooled his features and looked up at her once more, fingers still moving high up on her leg. She shifted, spreading them, only lifting an eyebrow at him in challenge when he asked, "What were you doing Granger?"

"I think you know."

"Still," he said, leaning up now so that there was only a breath between them; his fingers gripping her thighs as she brushed her nose along his jaw. "I want you to tell me."

She nodded, hesitantly, tongue flicking out over her lips as she stared down at him. Draco lifted his hand and grasped her left one, lifting it to his lips. "It's ok," he said, breath ghosting over her fingertips as he pressed chaste kisses to them. "Tell me."

"When Blaise—" she broke off and cleared her throat before straightening and meeting his eye.

"When Blaise sent me the notes I would always roll my eyes and put them away. Usually he sent them to me in the library and I would always tuck them away into the back of my textbooks. I never met him but—" Draco noticed she was blushing furiously now, even though she was stroking her hands through his hair without a care as he kissed his way up the inside of her thighs; her eyes glazed over as she spoke, "—his words..." She bit down on her lip as she trailed off.

"You masturbated to them?"

Draco wasn't sure how someone could blush harder but Granger did. Her eyes scrunched up as she nodded her head.

"Did you come?" He asked gently. His fingers were skating the tops of her thighs now and he could feel the heat emanating from the apex of them. If he moved his fingers just so….

Hermione's eyes fluttered open and she nodded, shifting where she sat so that Draco didn't have to worry about moving his fingers.

She'd moved so that they were pressing against the wet folds of her bare cunt and Draco's eyes flashed to meet hers as she said, "I didn't come."

Draco didn't remember moving.

He didn't remember shucking his robes or kicking off his dragonhide loafers.

Nor did he remember sweeping Hermione off of her sofa and into his arms, but he must have because he was suddenly pressing her into the wall on the way to, presumably her bedroom, when he noticed her feet digging into his back, her hands between them, wand pointed at her stomach before she dropped it to the ground and started pulling at his shirt, pushing his trousers down over his hips to grasp at the erection that he'd been nursing since this afternoon in her office.

One of them had tugged her robe open because her tits; her perfect tits that he'd only ever glimpsed a tease of are right there, nipples hard and just begging to be sucked—

"Draco—" he'd never heard his given name drop from her lips before but suddenly all he wanted was to hear it forever.

He gripped her bare arse, hard enough to leave a bruise—which he hoped did— and began moving down towards the open door at the end of the hallway.

He dropped Hermione onto the bed, where she proceeded to stretch, arching her back before spreading her legs. She looked up at him as he stripped down to nothing and bit her lip, dipping one hand between her legs, spreading her fingers over the wet folds of her cunt.

Draco's isn't sure he's ever been so hard. Or whether he ever imagined Hermione Granger— Golden Girl of Gryffindor, the reason her two sidekicks managed to achieve even one NEWT, his partner in the DMLE and for the past few months, his boss— as the absolute cock tease she very obviously was.

"Please."

Draco wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and squeezed, because Merlin, she begged so prettily.

He stepped out of the puddle of clothes at his feet and crawled onto the bed, dropping kisses on Hermione's skin as he went and as he came to a rest between her thighs. He dipped his tongue into her belly button then swirled it down her navel, tasting her, before he placed a gentle chaste kiss at the top of her bare mons.

"Is this ok?"

Hermione nodded, lifting her hips and he had to bite back a snort at her eagerness, instead leaning forward and dragging his tongue over her wet cunt.

She jerked beneath him and he gripped her hips.

"Fuck," he said, biting a kiss to the inside of her thigh before dragging his tongue over her once more.

She was a whimpering mess beneath him; nails catching on his shoulders, fingers pulling at his hair, hands pushing him away then right back to where they both wanted him to be. When he pushed two fingers into her and hissed a quiet, "Merlin, you're tight," she shattered around his fingers, wetness dripping down his hand as he pulled them gently from her and sucked them clean.

Draco froze when he heard Hermione say, "Your forked tongue really is wicked." She was smirking at him when he finally opened his eyes and met hers.

"Merlin," he groaned, "if I hadn't heard Blaise use that pick up line, successfully I might add, about half a dozen times, I'd never have immortalised it in written word."

He dropped down onto the bed beside Hermione, poking her in the ribs as she laughed. "It's cute." He snorted but she sat up, mouth opening to no doubt furiously protest what he'd said but when she caught him staring simply said, "What?"

"You're beautiful." Draco blurted without thought; Hermione's eyes widened. "Fuck."

"It's ok," Hermione laughed. She nudged him down and lifted her leg, straddling him and all thoughts that Draco had of fucking her disappeared as she gently wrapped her hand—her fingertips just meeting—around his cock, shifted, and sank down onto him.

She immediately started moving, lifting herself up as she planted both hands on Draco's chest and started to bounce and Draco's balls tightened; she was a minx.

He was never going to last with her fucking herself on his cock like that. "Fuck, Hermione, fuck. Stop—"

She did.

"What's wrong?"

She looked so fucking earnest as she dropped onto her elbows and stroked the hair, that had fallen into his face, back. Draco bit back a smile and squeezed her hips.

"Nothing," he said, grinning, his eyes fluttering shut as she squeezed his cock, "but if you don't stop that we won't be at this for long."

Hermione snorted but began moving again. Slowly. She slipped one hand between them and Draco felt her fingers spread over where his cock was moving into her. "That's ok. We can go again," she said, smirking then throwing her head back with a groan as she slipped her fingers higher.

Draco could only watch in awe as she moved above him.

Breasts bouncing, curls tangling as she ran one hand through her hair, bottom lip white from where she was biting it so hard; if someone had told him this morning that the two of them would finally cross the line they'd been edging towards, for years at this point, this morning when he'd accidentally sent her the wrong memo—he'd have laughed.

He was drawn from his thoughts by a moan and quickly batted Hermione's hand away from between her legs. He let his thumb find the spot he knew would drive her over the edge instead; his other hand grasped at her tit, fingers pinching her nipple between them.

"Please." Hermione arched into his touch, begging, "Please, Draco."

Who was he to deny her?

He surged up, meeting her lips with his, tongue flicking over hers as she came, clenching down hard on his cock and when she relaxed in his arms, pliant and satisfied, he thrust up into her once, twice, and came.

"Well," Hermione began when she'd caught her breath. She lifted her head from where it had been resting on Draco's chest and smirked. "That was unexpected."

"Nice," Draco said at the same time, then laughed at the expression on Hermione's face. "I mean—"

"No," she said, laughing as she lifted up and moved into the crook of his arm. She leaned forward and pressed a soft chaste kiss to his lips before ducking her head once more and murmuring, "It was nice."

They lay there quietly, listening to the rain beat against the windows, fingers trailing over bare skin, exploring, when Hermione spoke up.

"Do you think the next time you write one of those notes and break code 52.B you could send it to…" she trailed off and Draco felt his cock hardening at the thought of it.

Of sending Hermione Granger a dirty little note telling her exactly how, when and where, he was going to make her come with his forked tongue.

Then dragging her into an empty broom closet and doing just that.

"Yes," he said, before she could speak again. She lifted her head, lips curving up slowly into a smile and Draco swiped his thumb over her mouth, wrapping an arm around her waist as he shifted above her. "Absolutely."