Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Playlist

“Well, it’s happened,” Hermione sighed, slumping down into the booth across from Harry and Ginny Potter. 

“You’re pregnant!” Ginny gasped, immediately abandoning her menu. 

“Ginevra ,” Hermione scolded, looking around the restaurant to make sure no one had heard. “No, I am not pregnant.” 

Ginny frowned, her shoulders slouching.

“What’s happened, ‘Mione? Harry prompted. 

“I got a new assignment today,” she told them, forcing a sarcastic smile. “I have to cover and review Draco Malfoy’s show tonight. 

“No!” Ginny perked up again, leaning over the table to grip Hermione’s arm. 

“Yes!” Hermione responded, matching her tone. “Positively miserable. It’s bad enough to see that arrogant git make the pages of our magazine, but now I have to stand in the photo pit,  inches away, as he gets his ego fed by thousands of screaming girls.” She finished and rolled her eyes, trying to focus on what she would order. A margarita, definitely. She wouldn’t make it through the night without one. 

“I still can’t believe it,” Harry shook his head. “Draco Malfoy can sing.” 

“ That’s what you can’t believe? How about the fact that he’s loved by millions of muggles?” Hermione asked. “ Muggles!” 

Ginny shrugged. “He’s talented, he’s hot, he’s a rockstar,” she said, and Harry knit his eyebrows together. “They don’t know what he was like as a child. They don’t know what the Malfoy name means .” 

“He’s hot?” Harry pressed. Ginny gave him an annoyed look and pinched his cheek. 

“They don’t know the Malfoy name, period,” Hermione mumbled. “He just goes by ‘Draco’. His Wikipedia page says his legal name is Draco Black. Unbelievable. The Ministry lets him be a celebrity, and I’ve got to hide the fact that I write some articles in my spare time.” 

“Again, that’s that Malfoy coin.” Ginny said matter-of-factly. 

She was right, of course. Hermione made a living; she was doing just fine. Between her Ministry job and being a muggle journalist, she was living quite comfortably. But with no affluent parents in her life, she had nowhere near what Draco Malfoy had in his Gringotts vault. She couldn’t even fathom the amount of muggle money he was making now, as well. At this rate, the Ministry walls should be covered in pure gold leaf.

“I’m going to need some help writing this review,” Hermione sighed, rubbing her brow. “Ginny, will you come over in the morning?” 

“Reporting for duty,” the witch responded, giving Hermione a little salute. 

Their dinner was rushed and the conversation unpleasant, as the married couple only wanted to ruminate on what Malfoy’s music might sound like. Hermione downed three margaritas before they paid the bill. 

“Thanks for the moral support, guys,” she said, taking the last swig of her beverage. She slid out of the booth and checked her watch. Her employer, Cosmopolitan, was sending a car that would be there any minute. “Wish me luck.” 

“Have fun!” Ginny called. 

“Be safe!” she heard Harry’s voice say from a distance. 

Hermione stood outside the restaurant and waited, quite impatiently, for the company car. 

There were a lot of things she loved about her side gig at Cosmo; writing book reviews, getting sent to movie premieres, and especially, knowing that her mother was reading her work – even if she didn’t know she had a daughter. 

She had sought out the job for that very reason; missing her parents. Though they lived happily in Australia, they were worlds away from her. She had never been able to undo their obliviation, and that was something Hermione simply had to tell herself was for the greater good. 

But Merlin , she missed them. 

In the years following the war in the Wizarding World, her ties to the muggle world diminished. Hermione tried many things to try to ground herself in both worlds, but anything that wasn't magical slipped so easily from her grasp. Her friends wouldn’t watch muggle movies, read muggle books, and rarely let her bring them out to muggle bars. Even Harry, who had been raised by non-wizarding folk. He, too, had become so engrossed in the Wizarding World –there was no reason for him to look back. Even after the war, his memories of wizards were much kinder to him than his memories of muggles were. 

Hermione even tried dating muggles as a way to connect with that side of herself again, but it never went verywell. The men she met were kind, almost too kind, and she felt awful lying to them. She lied about her name, her occupation, her childhood, her parents. Her parents weren’t dead, but she’d told so many guys that they were, sometimes she forgot it was not the truth. She always felt like she had the upper hand in the relationship and it gave her quite the unpleasant feeling. 

So, in the end, she decided to apply for a muggle job. An entertainment journalist. 

Through Cosmopolitan, she’d been able to reconnect with all of the aspects of her old life that she missed so dearly. Now, through one online website, she just knew her mother was logging onto her favorite women’s magazine site every day and catching up on all the latest articles. She would not know who H.J. Granger was, but it was enough of a connection for Hermione to feel like her parents weren’t complete strangers. 

On the other hand, that ruled out wizarding suitors as well. The only people who knew about her muggle job were Harry, Ginny, and Ron. If she were to reveal herself to anyone else, she would have to be married to them. If word got out to the Ministry that she was so deeply involved in muggle pop culture, her position as Executive Officer for the Care of Magical Creatures would be swiped out from under her. It was a sticky situation, but one that she tolerated as she looked for balance in her life post-war. 

Of course, there were things she didn’t like about the job as well. For example: being assigned  to work a rock concert mere hours before the concert began. 

She hadn’t had the time between work at the Ministry and her weekly dinner with the Potters’ to stop home and change into something more appropriate,so there she stood in her long grey pencil skirt, linen white button up, and yellow blazer. 

She wouldn’t stand out in the slightest . 

Finally, the car arrived, looking brand-new and shiny. She bid hello to her driver and watched London pass through her window.  

She’d known the minute Cosmo wrote their first article on Draco that there was a chance the next one would fall into her lap. As she climbed the ranks as their top entertainment writer, and he climbed the ranks of the muggle world as a rock-and-roll heartthrob, it only made sense. She just knew that somehow, after years out of school, the traumas of a war, and rebuilding her life , they would meet again. 

Part of her felt like he had known, too, and only chosen this path in life to find her again and torment her. But that was giving him too much credit. He wasn’t stupid by any means, but Hermione wasn’t sure she’d call him smart. 

The car pulled up to the O2 Arena and she saw that the entrance was completely mobbed with the people filing in. Most of the fans were girls around Hermione’s age. Upon seeing their short-shorts and tube tops, she whipped her blazer off and slung it over her camera bag. 

There was a burst of satisfaction – and perhaps, power – that surged through Hermione as she retrieved her press pass and was escorted to the front of the line, passing all of the squealing girls. The arena employee led her straight into the VIP clubhouse, weaving through the fans posing for pictures and dodging the ones that were running to secure their spot in the general admission section. The air was electric; Hermione could feel the excitement coursing through the very ground she walked on. 

Then, she saw his face. 

It was printed on a giant poster inside the clubhouse, hanging behind the bar. He had his cocky smirk on display, and his grey-blue eyes seeming to pierce through her. His hair was made to look wet, strands of it falling into his eyes. 

Hermione tried not to gag as she approached the bar, angling her body sideways so she didn’t have to face the poster of him. 

“Miss Granger?” Hermione’s head turned at the sound of her name. The arena employee who had escorted her was standing near the door, body half turned. 

“Yes?” she answered with a smile. 

“Mr. Black is waiting for you. We cannot delay.” 

The margaritas had slowed Hermione’s train of thought. 

Who was Mr. Black –   oh no, no, no, no. 

“I’m sorry?” she asked, hoping she’d heard wrong. 

Hermione squinted to see her nametag – ‘ Shana’ – and the employee motioned for her to follow. “He’s requesting to see you before the show.”

“ Fucking Merlin and the four fucking founders ,” Hermione cursed under her breath. 

She flattened out her skirt as she followed Shana into a new hallway lined with photos of artists that had played the arena before. They whizzed by as Hermione tried to keep pace with Shana, who was speed-walking in sneakers, rather than the Ministry standard heels she still had on. 

If she had known she’d have to talk to him, she would have laid off the margaritas. 

…Or maybe she would have had a fourth. 

The decorated hallways fell away to more barren ones, indicating how deep into the backstage area they were getting. Shana left her in a lounge area, saying ‘Mr. Black’ would be in at any minute. 

There were couches and chairs littering the room, as well as mini fridges and refreshments. Hermione figured there was no point in showing her manners. She cracked open one of the fridges and pulled out a hard cider. It opened with a sizzle as she leaned against the back of one of the couches. 

The far door opened and Hermione instinctively took a sip. 

Here we go. 

But it wasn’t him. It was a tall bloke with curly brown hair and – it was Theodore Nott.  

He jumped upon seeing Hermione , obviously expecting to have the room alone. 

“No way,” he smiled from ear to ear upon registering her face. “Hermione Granger?” 

Hermione threw her arms out to the side in a ‘ that’s me’ motion. She hadn’t seen Theo since their school days, and boy had he grown. He was tall and lean, his arms extremely toned with a few tattoos scattered across them. His lip was pierced with a black ring, matching the all black ensemble of Dickie’s pants and a ribbed tank top that he was wearing. 

“Draco’s gonna get a kick out of this,” he chuckled. 

Hermione opened her mouth to say something – ask how’d he been, what he was doing here, or, perhaps, what she was doing here – 

But then he entered. 

Hermione choked on her cider, quickly wiping the dribble of it off her chin. 

Draco was only a few inches shorter than Theo, still towering over Hermione. He wore denims, which would have left Hermione dumbfounded in any other situation. But for now, her attention was captured by the way they strained to fit around his thighs.

Oh God, she was ogling. 

The top half of him didn’t make her feel any better. He was toned as well, so much so that she could see the outline of his pectorals through his flowery button up, which was loosely tucked into his pants. The visible parts of his arms were entirely covered in tattoos, his alabaster skin poking out here and there. The tattoos continued over his chest where the buttons on his shirt were undone sinfully low and up his neck, only stopping below his chin. He had multiple piercings on each ear, a silver chain around his neck, and a ring on every finger, as his hand came up to swipe white-blonde locks out of his face. 

She’d seen him briefly in pictures here and there, but never looked so closely. There was no way this was the same boy she had gone to Hogwarts with. 

Hermione guzzled her cider, hoping it would cool off the heat that was pooling in her cheeks at that moment. 

Draco’s face fell into a wide smile, though it was much less friendly than Theo’s had been. It was cocky, conceited. It was very Malfoy. 

“Well, well, well,” he began. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Theo gave a cheeky wave before exiting the room. Hermione’s inner monologue screamed for him not to leave, but she held her tongue. 

“Malfoy,” she tried for a smile. 

“Oh, no, no,” he warned. “I’m afraid you’ll have to call me Draco, love. There’s no ‘ Malfoy’ around here.” 

Love?  

“What am I doing back here?” she asked bluntly. 

He took a few slow steps toward her before snatching the can of cider out of her hand. He took a swig of it before handing it back, not taking his eyes off of hers. She struggled to meet his eyes.

“Nervous, Granger? Or do you usually reek of this much alcohol?” he asked. “I don’t judge, of course.” 

“It’s going to take a lot of alcohol to make me okay with looking at your big head plastered around this place,” she laughed; unfortunately, nervously.  

“Still hate me, do you?” his shoulders fell a bit as he asked the question. 

He couldn’t even handle the thought of one person not worshiping him, could he? Not even the subject of his childhood bullying?

“Did you need something from me?” Hermione asked him, starting to regain her footing after the initial shock of seeing him. “A request for the publication?” 

“No,” he said simply. He sauntered closer still. “I saw the initials and the last name on the press sheet. I did some quick research and found that H.J. Granger is quite the hot-shot entertainment writer. Though, some of her book reviews are absolutely heinous, you should know. I thought there was no way it could be the Granger, but I had to see for myself. I figured, if it was you, I’d get to see that sour look on your face upon seeing me again. And if it wasn’t you…I’d get a nice pre-show shag out of it.”  

Hermione grimaced. “That’s classy.” 

“It’s rock-and-roll, baby. I never claimed to be,” he grinned. 

Surely he must know how stupid he sounded?

“I could positively gag.”

“I’m sure you could,” he winked at her and Hermione grew hot, wondering if there was absolutely anything she could say that he wouldn’t turn into an innuendo. “ Tsk, tsk, tsk. Does the Ministry know about your other job?” 

Hermione crossed her arms across her chest. “My humble muggle job is of no concern to the Ministry. I should be asking you, however, what the hell you’re doing in the muggle realm.” 

“You’d rather me stay in the wizarding one and be harassed wherever I go? I thought you had a heart, Granger,” he feigned hurt as he used one arm to lean against the same couch as Hermione. The veins in his forearms flexed as he did so. “Thanks to my mother and pureblood society, I was raised to learn piano and a few other instruments that lend themselves quite nicely to picking up guitar. Along with some… magical enhancements, of course.” 

Now Hermione huffed angrily out of her nose and set her jaw. Of course he was somehow using magic to be famous. 

These poor muggles. Brainwashed and unknowing. 

“Oh, please, Granger, I can nearly see the steam coming out of your ears,” he chuckled darkly. “I only want my mother to live as comfortably as she can in France.” 

“So, that’s where she’s gone off to, has she?” Hermione mused. “That doesn’t answer my question, by the way. Why are you playing music for muggles?” 

“They’re not so bad, after all. They love me, praise me, throw themselves at me. It’s quite nice actually,.” he told her with an air of contentment. “You can thank your friend Longbottom for that one. He brings Pansy out to muggle pubs often, and of course, I get invited as well. I watched some muggle sport with him where they had a musician play in the middle of the game. It was fantastic. And I thought… that could be me . They do some really good tattoos, as well. Much better than the one I got back in the wizarding world.” 

Oh, so now he was joking about being a Death Eater, then. Clearly, fame suited Draco Malfoy. 

Hermione nodded, thinking it all over. “Thousands of screaming fans, all cheering for you and only you…yeah, that sounds like the perfect, modest job for you. Won’t feed your already overblown ego at all.” It was a jab, but really, she couldn’t think of anything more appropriate for the attention-hungry boy she knew in school. 

“ Millions of fans, darling,” he smiled crookedly. His white teeth glistened under the lights. “So, what do they have you doing, anyway? You look like you’re going to file my taxes for me.” 

Hermione frowned at him, pulling her muggle camera out of its bag. “I’ve been tasked with making you look pretty.” 

“Well, you won’t have to try so hard, will you? Let me see that,” he snatched the camera out of her hand before she could protest, and she watched as he struggled to open the folding screen. “Better if I make sure you haven’t cursed this thing.” 

“Malfoy, please –” Hermione began, holding her breath as the camera slipped out of his hands and hit the floor with a horrible sound. She cringed, watching the lens shatter across the floor. 

“ Reparo,” he said quickly, his wand seeming to have appeared from thin air. He handed her camera back gingerly, leaning close into her face. “It’s Draco , love.” 

“Do you call everyone ‘love’ ?” she asked, assessing her camera. The spellwork wasn’t shoddy, at least. 

But Malfoy was already walking away from her. “Enjoy the show, Granger,” he said as he disappeared through the door, not looking back to glance at her. 

Hermione stood there for a few moments, letting the alcohol and the interaction she just experienced settle inside her. When was the last time a man had flirted so boldly without showing even the slightest sign of shame? For Hermione, at least, the answer was never. She tended to attract soft-spoken, nervous men who chose their words carefully. 

As Ginny said, men were often scared of her.  

It was a shame Malfoy spoke that way to all of the women he met. What a change of scenery. 

She struggled to find herself out of the backstage area, eventually giving in and asking a security guard to show her to the photo pit. The opening band hadn’t even gone on yet, and Hermione was already wishing for her bed. As she shifted her weight between her feet uncomfortably, she couldn’t help but overhear the conversations between the fans on the barrier behind her. 

“He takes his shirt off right in the middle of the set. Have your phone out,” one girl told her friend. 

“I don’t want to use the space on my phone!” the second girl cried. 

“You know I broke mine,” her friend snapped. “Come on, I need a new screensaver. Please!” 

Noted: Leave before the middle of the set. 

Typical press passes only gained you access to the first three songs, anyway. Hermoine was confident enough in her photographing skills to get enough shots from three songs. 

The interaction prompted her to put in her earplugs. She really didn’t need to hear what Draco’s fans had to say about his body. 

The opening band went on and played a fun set, getting the crowd to clap along and even laugh at their monologues between songs. But when they exited, a real buzz overtook the arena. Hermione tried not to look behind her, knowing she’d get overwhelmed by the sheer volume of people in the crowd. Eyes front would have to do. 

Finally, Draco’s bandmates stepped onstage. If it hadn’t been for her earplugs, Hermione was certain she’d have permanent damage to her hearing after the collective scream the crowd let out. 

After a long guitar solo from the lead guitarist, Draco ran out on stage and grabbed the microphone with force, belting out his first few lines. 

The wind left Hermione as she watched through her viewfinder. 

The way he pointed into the crowd, motioning for them to be louder. 

The way he wrapped the wired microphone around his hands, the veins in them pulsing. 

He demanded attention and he got it. He was like a magnet. 

She zoned out for the first three songs, sure that her head might explode if she had a single thought more about Draco Malfoy. 

Without turning back, she swiftly left the photo pit, found her way to the exit, and called for a company cab.

 In the backseat, she flipped through her photos and realized he was right. 

She really hadn’t needed to try very hard to make him look pretty.  

Chapter Text

Playlist

“You can’t turn this in,” Ginny was saying. 

“What?” Hermione’s head shot up to look at her red-headed friend. Ginny’s expression was all-business. “Why?” 

“Have you ever submitted a negative review before?” the witch asked, sipping her tea while her eyes remained on the page. 

“Yes,” Hermione replied, lifting her chin in confidence. “Some political books. A few romance films.” 

“Ever about somebody as famous as this?” 

Then Ginny trailed her amber eyes up to meet Hermione’s. She tried to remember when Ginny Weasley-Potter had become  the voice of reason. 

“No,” she admitted, letting her head loll back against the chair. “I just can’t bring myself to write anything nice about him!” 

“Was the show really that bad? Was he ?” 

“No,” Hermione groaned again. “The show was good. It was great. What I saw of it, at least. He was less unpleasant than I remember. Cocky, arrogant, annoying…but not mean.” 

“So stop being petty and fix this,” Ginny told her, shoving the draft of Hermione’s article back into her hands. “Even if you don’t, your boss is probably going to tweak it to be less harsh. Or if she chooses to publish it, for whatever masochistic reason she might have, the article will make the news. No one bashes the muggle’s precious Golden Boy. Everyone will want to know who did it and then all attention will be on you – trying to figure out who this extremely bitter ‘H.J. Granger’ is.The Ministry would be absolutely furious with you and I know you love your job. So you've kind of dug your own grave with this one.” 

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She knew it wasn’t the main point, but she was a tad strung up on Ginny referring to Malfoy as Golden Boy. She never asked to be the Wizarding World’s Golden Girl, but she didn’t like how close he was getting to her own title. 

“Then I’ll just resign from the magazine,” she sighed. 

Ginny seemed prepared for that response. “Then he wins. And, since you still seem to think you’re in competition with him, he wins, and you lose your passion.” 

Hermione let out a long-winded groan and pressed her forehead to the Potters’ dining table. “I hate it when you’re right,” she said, staying there for a few moments too long before popping back up again. She collected her papers off the table, slung her bag over her shoulder, and grabbed the to-go cup of tea Ginny had made for her. “I’ll write it nice. And then, I’ll be done. No more Malfoy.” 

“Until the next tour,” she caught Ginny saying, just before she apparated to the Ministry. 

Once settled in at her desk, Hermione rewrote her review of Malfoy’s show, this time praising him and claiming to have had the most wonderful time . She was internally begging the gods, both magical and muggle, to make him forget about her being there last night so he wouldn't go searching for his review. It was hard enough for her to get out something positive about him in the first place. The last thing she needed was for him to actually read it.

He’d probably have the article framed: Hermione Granger finally had something good to say about Draco Malfoy. 

She rolled her eyes at the thought. 

She attached the final draft to an email and sent it off to her boss. Her finger hesitated over the send button, but once she hit it, she was free of the article forever. 

With a deep breath, she continued onto her Ministry work, transfiguring  her laptop just in case anyone unannounced came to see her today. 

The Ministry work was dull, as usual, but Hermione did love it. Though drafting legislation and reading ancient texts would have turned everyone else off, Hermione found joy in it. Even when there were things that she didn’t like to do – such as meet with with naive higher-ups and place phone calls to the Ministry’s biggest donors – she was able to remind herself that everything she did was for the  benefit of the Wizarding World’s most underserved creatures, such as house elves. That was enough for her. 

Today she had a meeting with the Aurors to discuss how best to go about their communications with the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest. They didn’t like unannounced visitors, but they also weren’t known for answering any of the Ministry’s owls. 

Ron and Harry were there, which often made the meetings more difficult. It had been easier to put her foot down in conversations with them when they were back in school. As adults, it was a little awkward to tell your Ministry colleagues that they were wrong, even when they so often were. 

She made small talk with her friends after the meeting, telling Harry that Ginny helped her with her article, and asking Ron how Lavender was doing with her pregnancy. 

Once she’d been away from her desk for too long, Hermione excused herself. 

She buried herself in paperwork once more until she heard a strange noise coming from beside her. She knit her eyebrows together, not knowing what it could be at first. Had someone snuck some sort of Zonko’s toy into her desk? 

Oh. It was her muggle cell phone. 

She quickly unlocked the desk drawer the phone was hidden in and picked the little red thing up.

It was her boss from Cosmo. 

Five missed calls.

Hermione flipped the phone open. 

“Hello?” 

“Granger, where have you been? I’ve been calling!” her boss’ voice shrieked through the phone. 

“I’m sorry, Evelyn. I’ve been having issues with my phone. It wasn’t buzzing.” 

Okay, perhaps she wasn't great at lying on the spot. 

“What’s happened? Is there something wrong with the article?” 

“Oh, no worries, I forget how easily stressed out you get. The article was perfect, dear.” 

Hermione let out a sigh of relief knowing she wouldn’t have to revisit that wretched thing. Her boss continued.

“I’ve been calling you like a lunatic because Draco himself called us!” 

“For what?” Hermione asked, skimming over some documents on her desk. She had gotten used to working two jobs at once, literally. 

“You’re going on tour!” Evelyn screeched, her voice piercing Hermione’s through the phone. Hermione dropped her Motorola Razr with a jerk, immediately scrambling to pick it up. 

“Hello? What? What tour?” she asked, hoping the call hadn’t dropped on the way down. 

“Draco said you had a wonderful conversation last night and he’s a big fan of the publication.” Hermione could hear Evelyn’s smile through every word. 

“Which does remind me to invite you to more networking events… anyway ! He doesn’t have a tour photographer and he asked us if he could steal you for the rest of the tour so you could do all the coverage for him! And we’ll get an exclusive, which you know I love.” 

Hermione could hear her heartbeat in her ears. Was Malfoy out of his mind? What was he doing, calling her place of work, asking her boss if she could come on tour with him. 

How ridiculous. 

“Evelyn, you know I can’t do that,” Hermione told her, trying to keep her tone light. 

“And why would that be?” 

 Hermione could already tell Evelyn was going to put up a fight. 

“The magazine…?” Hermione tried, pathetically. 

“Don’t be silly. This would be your only assignment,” Evelyn told her. “Nothing else until you get back.” 

Come on, Hermione, find a better excuse.

“Free hotels, free transportation, and you’re getting paid, of course,” her boss continued. “Obviously, we can’t force you to uproot your life for a month, so the choice is yours, but, Granger…the experience! It’s once in a lifetime!” 

“I’d miss home too much,” Hermione sighed, grateful she was at least being given a choice. 

“Oh, that’s another thing!” Evelyn perked up again. “Didn’t you say your parents live in Australia? The tour is going there. Free trip home!” 

Hermione gasped silently, her hand going a bit slack around the phone. 

Her parents. 

It had been years since she’d seen them; years since she had obliviated them.

It had been the hardest thing she’d ever gone through, and at times she wasn’t sure if she’d ever recover. How many times had Harry held her back from apparating straight to Sydney to look for them? 

She’d never had any true plan of course; just a vague hope that they’d let a stranger into their home so she could attempt to undo long-term spell damage that no one had ever undone before. 

Her friends knew she was only going to hurt herself more. 

Besides, she was nothing to her parents anymore. They were getting on just fine without her. Who was she to come in and destroy that, when she had been the one to erase their memory in the first place? 

She promised herself then that she would never use magic to see her parents. Never use it to travel to them, try to fix them, or even contact them. No apparating, no portkeys. 

No contact whatsoever. 

But if she took muggle transportation… If she was working a job that just so happened to be passing through Australia…she wouldn’t technically be breaking her promise. 

“Granger?” Evelyn was saying. “Hellooo?” 

“I’ll go,” Hermione breathed.

The words fell heavy on her shoulders after they left her mouth. Her decision was made. But damn, if it wasn’t a stupid one. 

She had to hold her cell phone away from her ear as Evelyn screamed with excitement. 

“Amazing! I’m so excited for you!” she cooed. “A company car will pick you up at eight and bring you to the O2. You leave on the band bus tonight!” 

And with that, Evelyn made a smooching sound and hung up, leaving Hermione to stand absolutely dumbfounded,alone in her office, with her cell phone still open and hanging out of her hand.

Tonight?

Band bus?  

Would she be living on a bus with Draco Malfoy for the next month?

Draco Malfoy rode in a muggle bus!?

Her mind swirled with the absolute insanity of the situation until her office began to spin around her. 

As if from muscle memory, Hermione dazedly dialed the number for the cell phone she had forced upon Ginny.

“Hello?” Ginny answered cheerfully. 

“Ginevra Weasley. I’ve lost my mind,” Hermione told her, no inflection in her voice. “Meet me at my house after work.” 

Really, she should have taken the rest of the day off. It’s not like she got much done anyway. Everytime she tried to focus on the documents in front of her, her mind wandered. 

To Malfoy, to her parents, to the absolute hell her life was about to be for the next month or so. 

She put in a request for time off from the Ministry while her shoulder guardians warred within her. Perhaps she’d be spared; a month off was a very long time, so there was no guarantee she’d be granted leave. 

But then she’d be disappointed, as part of her had already gotten her hopes up. 

There was no need for the back and forth, however, as Hermione was notorious for never taking a day off from the Ministry since she’d started working there. She must have more unused vacation days than she could count. The request was approved quickly without even a second glance from the Office of Personnel. A part of her wondered if they’d be glad to see her gone, as she was also notorious for sticking her nose into every other department’s business.

Besides, she sent a memo to the rest of her department requesting that they keep her up to date on everything. Though she wouldn’t physically be in the office, she’d still be working. 

That was simply the Hermione Granger way. 

As soon as the clock struck five, sheapparated home. Ginny was already there, pacing in Hermione’s bedroom. She gasped at Hermione’s arrival, but recovered quickly. 

“What? What is it?” Ginny asked frantically, grabbing Hermione by the shoulders. There was so much to say, so much to feel that Hermione’s face just stayed…blank. 

“I’m going on tour with Malfoy,” she told her friend. 

A silence hung between them for a few moments, each girl waiting for the other to say something. 

“What?!” Ginny finally shouted. 

Hermione told her everything, and Ginny’s face lit up more and more as the story went on. By the end of it, the red-headed witch had a full-blown smile on her face. 

Hermione began nervously biting her nails. Ginny flicked her hand away from her face.

“What do I do?” Hermione whined.. 

“What do you do? ” Ginny repeated incredulously. She crouched down, sticking her arms beneath Hermione’s bed and pulled out her  little pink suitcase to place it on the bed. “You need to pack!” 

“Ginny! I can’t do this!” 

“You can and you will. You’re Hermione Granger,” her friendtold her, unzipping the luggage. “You’ve fought wars. A little rock-and-roll isn’t going to hurt you. Ah, this is going to be so good for you! Traveling, some time away from the Ministry, perhaps seeing your parents for a moment. And you’ll be living everyone’s rockstar dreams! I’m jealous, really.” 

“Oh, shut it. No, you are not,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “This is Malfoy we’re talking about.” 

“Hush,” Ginny scolded, waving an arm at her dismissively. Then she began opening all of Hermione’s drawers and pulling out clothes to lay across the dresser. “You said it yourself, he’s not as awful as he used to be. And he asked for you to come… maybe he wants to make up for everything, who knows. It doesn’t matter. You’re twenty-seven now, I’m sure you can be cordial for some free food and transportation.” 

Hermione stood there awkwardly as Ginny held Hermione’s clothes up to her own body to see what they looked like in the mirror. 

“ Hermione,” Ginny eventually said in a firm tone. “Even if you’re having second thoughts, it’s too late now. Your boss already told them that you said yes to the whole thing. And I’ve never known you to back out of anything. Your subconscious told you to go, so that must be the right thing to do. Now, please pack your things. I’ve got your clothes covered. The rest is on you.”  

Hermione nodded her head a few times, as if the longer she did so, the more she’d be able to convince herself this was happening. But there really was no arguing with Ginny. What she’d said was spot on. There was no use in trying to struggle for a good response. 

Finally, she was able to get her feet to move, making her way into the bathroom to collect all of her toiletries. Then she moved onto miscellaneous items; jewelry, medicine, passport, books. 

She dumped about five books into the suitcase and went back to surveying her room for anything essential she couldn’t forget. Ginny had begun folding clothes and shoving them in the bag, only pausing to pick up one of the books Hermione had just thrown in. 

“Hermione Granger,” She said firmly, causing Hermione’s head to whip right over to her, “You are not taking these.” 

“Why not?” Hermione asked. “I need something to read.” 

“Perhaps one book to read. You’re going on tour with a rockstar. That’s plenty of entertainment,” Ginny told her. “But you are absolutely not bringing an erotica. Let alone five of them.” 

Hermione’s cheeks grew hot. “But that’s what I like to read,” she said quietly. 

“I know, and that’s great,” Ginny began, very unconvincingly. “But you are going to be in close quarters with one Draco Malfoy. If he has no other reason to continue bullying you like he did in school, this will surely give him a reason. Besides, you’ll be traveling all over Europe. Maybe you can meet someone who can do much more for you than these books can.” 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione asked, crossing her arms overher chest. It took all her willpower to not yell at Ginny for throwing her precious books onto the bed so haphazardly. 

“It means,” Ginny smiled. “When was the last time you got properly shagged?” 

“Please try not to remind me,” Hermione replied through her teeth. “But I’m not going to sleep with a stranger, Ginny.” 

“Oh, please, and the muggles you sleep with aren’t strangers?” 

“No! I talk to them for a while beforehand,” Hermione defended herself. “We’re only going to be in most of these cities for a day. I can’t get to know someone that fast.”  

“Yes, yes, you get to know these men, you sleep with them, and then you never return their calls. That’s much better,” Ginny said with thick sarcasm. She was rummaging through Hermione’s top drawer. When she found what she was looking for, she held it up with a smirk. 

Lingerie. 

Hermione groaned. It ended up in the suitcase anyway. 

And so did one of her erotica books. 

Later, the company cab dropped her off at the arena, where she was able to collect a VIP pass and be escorted backstage.

It was completely quiet back there when the show was going on, so Hermione wandered until she found side stage. There, she joined Theo to watch the rest of the performance. It was hard to hear from this side of the stage, but incredible to see the thousands of phone flashlights going off, just tiny dots from where Hermione was standing. 

To keep her mind off of the absolute herd of people in the stands right now, she let her attention drift to the stage instead. Malfoy had a drummer, a bassist, and a keyboard player. They didn’t do any of the talking, so Hermione figured they were just a for-hire band they’d recruited for the tour. They looked like they were having an amazing time, though, and Hermione couldn’t help but smile at the energy of the keyboard player. He seemed to be laughing to himself, hitting each key with an enthusiasm that bordered on overreacting. 

And then there was Malfoy. Shirt off, wired microphone hanging around his neck, running around the stage and leaving not one corner of the arena neglected from his attention. 

He was so… competent up there. It was almost frightening. 

He put on quite a finale for the fans. Even Hermione felt that excitement roll through her bones again. She could only imagine the amount of crying and screaming that was happening out in that crowd right now;a bunch of young muggle girls experiencing what they’d perceive to be the best night of their lives. 

Finally, Malfoy exited the stage. He wiped sweat from his forehead with a rag someone tossed at him, nearly walking into Hermione in the process.. She scurried out of the way, but he noticed. 

It took his eyes a moment to adjust to her from the spotlights that must have been blinding him on stage. But when he processed who it was, his lips fell into an open-mouthed smile. 

“You accepted,” he panted. Sweat was rolling down his neck, down his pectorals, over his abs, which Hermione had to stop herself from reaching out to feel. Just to be sure they were real, of course. His hair was also dripping, falling into his eyes like it had in the poster. Her body filled with heat from head-to-toe. Obviously, because a very disgustingly sweaty man was standing far too close to her. Not anything else. He continued speaking. 

“I’ll admit it. I did not see that one coming.” 

“Neither did I,” Hermione told him truthfully. 

“So, why?” His grey eyes searched her and Hermione felt exposed. Ironic, , considering Malfoy was the one half naked before her, his silver chain the only thing adorning his bare upper body. 

“None of your business, really,” she shrugged, and Malfoy grinned wider.

“Welcome aboard, Granger,” he said silkily before hurrying further backstage. A few of his crew members were bombarding him with questions, handing him water, and leading him down the hall. 

Theo tapped on her shoulder, pulling her attention away from the retreating rockstar. “Come on, I’ll show you to the bus.” 

The tour bus was much larger than it looked on the outside, to Hermione’s relief. She could make due. 

“We’ll share this bus with Collin and Tades, two of the other crew members,” Theo told her. “Draco and the main crew have their own bus.” 

Hermione sighed with relief at that. She could sleep in a bus completely Draco free. Theo pointed to a bottom bunk on the right side.

“This will be yours,” he told her. “I know it probably looks uncomfortable, but we’ll have hotels most nights.” 

“So, you’re crew?” Hermione asked after hauling her suitcase onto the bunk. 

Theo looked around to make sure no one else had entered the bus. “On paper, yes. I don’t do much, as you’ll find out. I’m just here to be Draco’s wizarding moral support. I keep him in check, I keep him sane, and I mooch off of his fame and glory.” Theo smiled his cheeky smile. “But the other guys think I’m some sort of assistant. A lazy one, at that. I get him lunch, drinks, anything really. We decided to split up on the buses though, so he won’t forget himself and  start sending hexes my way for fun or something. He does that often.” 

“Ah, friendship at its finest,” Hermione sighed. 

“Hey, you should be thanking me,” Theo said, pointing a playful finger at her. “I’m no muggle expert, but I was never as much of a… how should I say… arrogant arsehole as Draco was. Without me, he would have Avada’d some of these crew members by now.” 

“Sounds about right,” Hermione admitted. 

“Well, settle in,” Theo told her, running a hand through his curls. “Welcome to tour life.” 

Chapter Text

Playlist

Hermione was well asleep in her bunk by the time the bus pulled away from the O2. 

She slept like a rock after the whirlwind of a day she had endured. Surprisingly, she didn’t wake a single time, despite her worries of tumbling out of the bunk at every turn of the large vehicle.

That was, until she heard the screaming. 

Hermione’s eyes shot open, and only just remembered  that she couldn’t sit straight up unless she wanted to absolutely smash her head on the top bunk. She pulled open her privacy curtain, but the bus was dark and quiet. Slowly, Theo pushed over his curtain as well. 

He looked groggily at her from his bunk –  directly across the aisle from hers –  and blinked slowly. 

“You good?” he asked.

“What was that screaming?” she asked. It had been short-lived, but there was still some commotion in the distance. 

“Fans,” Theo yawned. 

What? What time was it?

Hermione checked her phone, the light blinding her a bit. Seven AM. 

She got up carefully from her bunk and made her way over to the tour bus’ windows. Moving the curtain back a smidge, she was able to see that they had made it to the Manchester arena. A line of young women were littering the sidewalk. Some of them were sitting on the ground while others sat in beach chairs or were wrapped up in sleeping bags. One group at the front of the line even had a tent. They looked at the bus excitedly and whispered amongst themselves. 

“What the hell are they doing?” Hermione groaned quietly, hoping not to wake up the other crew members. 

“Queueing,” Theo said simply. “A lot of the fans with GA tickets like to camp out a day or two before the show so they know they’ll get front row.” 

“They sleep out here?” 

“Yeah. It’s weird at first, but you get used to it. Just part of the culture, especially across Europe.” 

“That’s insane,” Hermione grumbled, throwing herself back into her bunk. 

Theo chuckled before closing his privacy curtain to go back to sleep.. Hermione tried to do the same, but for a while all she could do was stare at the blank space above her head. 

These girls… these women… they were giving up days at a time, their comfortable beds, the security of their homes – just for a chance to see Malfoy from the front row. 

He was like a god to them. 

Sure, Hermione could admit that his show was good, but was that really it? She remembered listening to Elton John with her mother growing up. Now that was a talented man. Kind, outspoken, entertaining, incredibly skillful. Besides having a captivating stage presence, Malfoy was…an arsehole. Surely these girls had something better they could be doing with their time? 

Eventually, she was able to catch a bit more sleep until a ruckus in the bus woke her up at nine. This was far more sleep than she usually got, as she was one of the first people at the Ministry every day. Though she’d usually scold herself for wasting time sleeping when she could have been productive, she actually thought resting felt quite nice. No one was expecting anything from her, so why not? 

Hermione brushed her teeth and got dressed in the small bus bathroom before wandering out onto the street to see what the everyday schedule of a band crew looked like. Two men, whom she assumed to be Collin and Tades, were unloading equipment from a smaller trailer behind the second bus. 

She bid them good morning, learning that the one who was thin and rivalled Theo’s height was Collin, while the more gangly one with knotty orange hair was Tades. He greeted her kindly, which did ease some of her anxiety. 

Of course, growing up muggle, she had learned the stereotypes of rockstars and the friends they took on the road with them. There was an underlying feeling of dread about being the only woman on the tour, surrounded by a bunch of men with very little else to go. So far, everyone seemed decent enough, aside from Malfoy and his crass comments.

Malfoy’s bus was quiet, and considering none of the girls on the street were staring daggers through the windows anymore, she assumed everyone had gone inside the venue. Curiosity overcame her, as it usually did, and she knocked on the door. 

The bus driver opened it and upon seeing her crew badge, welcomed Hermione warmly inside. 

“New to the tour,” she explained. “Just exploring.” 

“No worries. Explore away,” the older man said. “My bus tends to be a disaster though, I’ll warn you.” 

He was right. Compared to the bus Hermione had slept on, this one was messy. Not dirty, just overly cluttered. Men’s clothes were strewn about, packets of crisps left opened and abandoned on the seats, empty alcohol bottles rolling freely. 

When she made it to the bunks, she knew which one was Malfoy’s right away. 

Careless git, she thought. He had left a wizarding picture right there on his bed. She could see the corner of it sticking out from beneath the privacy curtain, the image moving in a loop. 

Curious, nosy, whatever you want to call it, Hermione pulled the picture out to view it in its entirety. She quickly tossed it back into his bunk upon seeing it. 

It wasn’t a photo, but an entire magazine full of them. Photos of naked witches, to be exact. A wizarding pornography magazine. 

Hermione sighed. This was going to be a long tour. 

After her excursion into the bus, she made her way into the venue to find Theo. She’d barely spoken to Theodore Nott when they’d gone to school together every single day, but after only two days into knowing him as an adult, he was already becoming Hermione’s safety blanket. The slightest sense of familiarity comforted her in this alien world. 

She felt the eyes of the queued up fans like goosebumps across her skin.  Hermione nervously shifted her gaze to find that the girls were all looking at her, seemingly stunned, and only turned away to whisper to each other. Hermione tried for a small smile before picking up the pace. It was a relief to be inside and out of their sight. 

Theo was nowhere to be found backstage. Though she feared getting in the way of all the men moving the large equipment, she checked the side stage as well, only to spot his dark curls in one of the arena seats. His feet were propped up on the seat in front of him as he typed on a muggle cell phone. 

Hermione made her way into the seated area to join him, feeling an odd sensation at being the only two people sat in an otherwise empty arena. 

“Good morning,” he said cheerily, finishing up his text message. 

“You don’t help them?” Hermione asked, motioning towards the other crew members on the stage, who were all either moving wires around, hauling large black boxes across the platform, or putting coloured tape along the floor. 

Theo laughed. “No, I do not. Above my pay grade.” 

“ Do you get paid?” 

“Of course not. Which is why I don’t help. And if anyone asks, I make much less than everyone else on this tour. So I definitely do not help. My duties begin and end with Draco’s personal errands.” Theo put his hands behind his head, looking quite pleased with himself. 

Hermione snuck a glance over at him, trying to make out some of his tattoos. There was a wreath of thorns twisting around his right arm, a dagger on the inside of his left forearm, and a few roses around his collarbone that she could see at the moment. Unlike Malfoy, all of Theo’s tattoos were without color, just black and grey. 

“You seem to be enjoying the muggle world,” she said. 

“Hm?” he said, lost in thought.

Hermione poked at his wreath of thorns to emphasise her question.

“Oh, yeah, it’s easy to get caught up in the whole rock scene thing. Everyone in the industry is tatted or pierced. Just another way to fit in. Plus, you get drunk, you go out, you see some cool art on the wall of a studio and… you wake up with new ink.” 

“You better make sure I don’t do that,” she said, eliciting a laugh from him. 

“I’ll keep you in check, don’t worry,” Theo told her. They sat in silence for a bit as they watched the commotion on stage. Eventually, Theo shifted in his seat and flexed his hands nervously. “Also, I learned that tattoos served as an act of rebellion for some. After the war, I wanted to leave everything behind. I’d let my family go a long time ago, but they never really let me go. I thought this was the most readily available way to make them realise I wasn’t coming back. That they couldn’t just marry me off to a pureblood girl and have the perfect heir they’d always wanted.” 

The confession caught Hermione off guard. She never thought about what he might have had to sacrifice to just be sitting next to her. Everyone had lost something in the war, no matter who they were. 

“I’m happy you’re out of there,” she said quietly. Then, she smiled and looked up at him. “Plus, it suits you.” 

“You think so?” Theo smiled back. Then his smile turned into a smirk. “Yeah, I do look good, don’t I?” 

Hermione let out a laugh. “Well, I can see why you’re friends with the other one.” 

But she had meant it. The tattoos and muggle fashion did suit Theo. They suited Malfoy, too.

“We’re gonna get kicked out by the arena staff soon. You want to get coffee?” Theo asked. Hermione agreed, following him through the rows of empty chairs. “There’s a place across the street.” 

The thought of seeing all the lined up fans again made her a little anxious, which she knew was silly. She wondered if they all had a thing for Theo too, considering he was at every show. Malfoy’s right-hand man. 

“Hey, can I ask you something? Malf- Draco… is he hiding from all of those fans outside?” she asked. “He won’t go say hello to them?” 

“Oh, no, nothing like that...” Theo told her. “He goes out after the show to meet the ones that hang around the bus. He does it every night, they’ve begun to expect it. That’s why we leave so late sometimes. He’s really good with them.” 

Well, that was certainly not the answer she’d been expecting. Draco Malfoy, taking time out of his day to talk to a bunch of muggles who wanted to meet him? After every show? She’d have to remember to do a little spying one of these nights. 

As the day went on, Hermione didn’t actually see Malfoy much at all.  She passed him backstage here and there, but he was always with someone else or rushing to make it to soundcheck. Still, he never missed the opportunity to give her a once over with a cocky little grin. 

It was as if her entire presence here  was humorous to him. Like she’d fallen into his trap. 

Maybe that was just the way it felt to be around Draco Malfoy. Maybe that was one thing that hadn’t changed. 

Regardless, she had a job to do, and she was going to do it well. 

She took pictures from afar that night, stationing herself by the sound booth to get pictures with the crowd. From back there, she could hear the music more clearly than she had in London. 

Malfoy’s voice was smooth but it had an edge to it. Something about it made her never want to stop listening. Something about it made her want to swallow up every word and keep them for herself. It was like the male version of a siren song and it had everyone in the arena completely in its trance. 

Tonight she even got to see him play guitar, his nimble fingers travelling up and down the neck of it while his other hand plucked and strummed expertly with a little guitar pick. She was too far away to see his facial expression clearly, but from where she stood it appeared as if his guitar was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, caressing it gently while still making it shred. At one point, he popped his guitar pick in his mouth and began playing with just his fingers. That made the crowd go wild. 

Fine , she conceded – he was talented. Hermione could picture his songs playing at her muggle family parties in the backyard. Her parents would host one or two every year, setting the radio to the classic rock station. He sounded just as good with his instrument as she remembered those famous bands sounding. She was a tad disappointed with herself for judging the girls in the queue that morning. Young women have always been at the forefront of pop culture. Elvis, The Beatles, Nirvana, and now Malfoy. 

How positively irritating. 

Chapter Text

Playlist

Hermione was giddy to be in Scotland. 

She’d been in England for so long, never taking days off for herself. She had a list of libraries and museums to visit during their two free days in Glasgow. 

On top of that, they had a hotel for the duration of their stay. 

It seemed there were privileges with being the only woman on the tour; one of them being a hotel room to herself. The guys all had to double up, with Theo and Malfoy rooming together, of course. 

They’d slept on the buses the night before, arriving in Glasgow midday. Hermione took time to shower and change in her hotel room before heading out to one of the libraries on her list before it closed. 

She donned a flowy green summer dress adorned with little white flowers and put her hair up in a bun, using her wand as a hair pin. Ginny had been a good packer, after all. She’d included plenty of practical outfits with jeans and tshirts, but she managed to sneak a few nicer outfits, as she knew Hermione felt best when she travelled in her nicest clothes. 

Or perhaps Ginny had intended her to wear this on the dates she imagined Hermione would be having. 

This counted, didn’t it? A date night with herself out in Glasgow. 

With a pep in her step, she exited the hotel and requested a cab from the valet. Someone whistled from behind her.  

“Well, don’t you look beautiful.” 

Hermione turned and saw Theo giving her a cheeky smile. 

He was leaning up against the outside wall of the hotel with Malfoy at his side. Theo took a drag of a cigarette while Malfoy’s hung between his lips, his grey eyes boring through her. 

“Thank you,” Hermione nodded politely to Theo. 

Malfoy slowly reached up and took his cigarette in between his two fingers. “Aren’t you a bit early, Granger? Our dinner isn’t for another few hours.” 

“Dinner?” she asked. 

Now Malfoy turned to his friend, disappointment on his face. “Shouldn’t it be your job to tell her these things?” 

“Shouldn’t your tour manager put up a schedule or something?” Theo frowned. “Sorry, Hermione, I’ll text you next time. We’re having a crew dinner at six. Local place, all paid for. See you there?” 

Hermione checked the time on her phone and pouted. Two-thirty. The library was on the other side of the city and depending on how much time she spent there, she would barely have time to hit any of the bookstores before she had to make it back for the dinner. 

“Something more important, Granger?” Malfoy asked, tilting his head to reveal a little bit more of the tattoo that snaked up his neck. 

“I just wanted to go to this library – ” she began, but was cut off by a dark chuckle. 

“You dress that nice to go to a library?” he smirked, like he had some sort of inside joke with himself. Knowing him, he probably did. 

“Ma’am, your car,” the valet said, tapping her on the shoulder. 

“I’ll see you later, Theo,” Hermione waved before getting in the backseat of the cab. 

“You got dissed, bro,” she heard Theo tease,  his voice muffled through the car door. 

Malfoy’s eyes followed the cab. He didn’t stop looking until the driver pulled out onto the street. 

The Glasgow women’s library was magnificent. On the outside, it resembled an ancient building with intricate stonework and beautiful arches. Inside, it was humble and quiet, like every good library should be. The workers greeted her kindly and soon enough, Hermione was lost amongst the shelves. 

She made a list on her phone of all the titles she wanted to read. Of course, she’d prefer to support the library and check them out there, but she just wouldn’t be in the area for long enough. 

Once her list was sufficiently longer than she'd anticipated, she headed off to the nearest local bookstore. The pile of books grew in her arms until she found a small table at the end of an aisle. She’d have to choose wisely. Back home, she’d buy them all, happy to fill up her bookshelves with new titles and reprints of old classics. But there wasn’t much room in her suitcase. She’d have to settle for two. 

Hermione read the backs of all the books, skimmed through their pages, and narrowed it down to five. She was tapping her foot in consideration when a worker approached her. 

“Quite the reader, are you?” he asked. He was a tall man with short brown hair. Cute accent. 

Not bad. 

“Oh, yes,” Hermione laughed politely. 

“I’d recommend this one,” he told her, picking up one of the books she had been staring at. “It was my staff pick last week. Can’t say enough good things about it.” 

“Really? I was between that one and the hardcover as my second option. I can only bring two books back with me,” she told him honestly. “I think you’ve sold me.” 

“Well, I can ring you up when you’re ready.” The man flashed her a smile before sauntering away down the aisle. 

The world would be shocked to know that of all places to be flirted with, a bookstore was one of Hermione Granger’s least favourites. It was a place she went for refuge. For peace of mind and tranquillity. Not flirting. 

He was probably just doing his job; she couldn’t blame him. 

She brought her chosen books to the checkout counter, busying herself bylooking for her wallet. 

“I’m Bryce, by the way,” the man told her. 

“Hermione.” 

“Hermione,” he repeated. “That’s different. Very pretty.” 

Gods. How many times had she had this exact conversation with a muggle man? 

“Thank you.” 

“I was wondering, would you be free this weekend?” Bryce asked, scanning her books and packaging them in a brown paper bag. “I’d love to take you out for a drink.” 

Hermione had learned by now that while it seemed like the right thing to do to simply be polite to men, they often took that as a sign that she was into them. 

Could he not feel how little effort she had been putting into this conversation? 

“Oh, well, that’s very flattering, thank you.” Hermione handed him her credit card and watched the checkout kiosk intensely for next directions. “But I'm not from around here. Leaving again tonight.” 

A little lie never hurt anybody. Plus, she wasn’t from around here, really. 

“That’s a shame,” Bryce said, smiling sadly. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Hermione.” 

“You too,” she smiled before rushing out of the store. 

On the cab ride back, she wondered what was wrong with her. Men like Bryce always approached her. They were cute, quiet, nice, and respectful. At first glance, she couldn’t name one thing wrong with them. 

But she knew what she wanted. And a man like that was not able to give it to her. 

She could positively hex Ginny for only letting her pack one of her erotica books.. 

The cab hit traffic on the way to the hotel and Hermione was mortified to find one of the tour buses already waiting outside,  the crew members packed and ready to go. She didn’t have time to drop her books off in her room, so she would have to carry an extra sort of purse for the night. 

“Are you waiting for me?” Hermione asked, taking a seat towards the front of the bus next to Theo. 

“Of course not,” he told her. “We’re waiting for Mr. Primadonna Girl.” 

Theo motioned out the window with his chin and Hermione turned to find Malfoy taking his good old time, chatting with a young woman outside the hotel room doors. 

“He’s an idiot. Talking to a fan now,” Theo shook his head. “As if she’s not going to go on the internet and tell everyone he took the time to speak to her. The hotel will be surrounded by the time we get back.” 

Hermione watched as Draco took the girl’s hand and kissed it. He winked at her and the girl turned red, turning to run back to her friends. 

“Let’s go, Romeo!” Theo called as Draco stepped onto the bus. 

“My appeal keeps you employed, Nott,” Draco told him before taking a seat. 

Hermione looked at Theo, who mouthed ‘yeah, right.’ She stifled a giggle. 

At dinner, Hermione was pleased to find that a humble sort of local place had been chosen, rather than a flashy five-star tourist trap. Malfoy’s tour manager had rented out the restaurant for their group alone, which got them the full attention of the owner; a little Scottish man with a thick accent and a great excitement for the menu. 

The food was delicious. It tasted like something that was homemade, with care and purpose put into its creation. Hermione had originally thought she’d have to rely on herself and the hotel computers for all of her travelling needs, but Malfoy actually seemed to have an adequate tour manager. Clearly not as shallow and spoiled as Malfoy himself. 

After dinner, when everyone was ordering a last round of drinks, Hermione pulled the owner aside. She questioned him about the museums she had on her list, the local libraries, and what other suggestions he had for her to do with what little time they had left in Glasgow. 

The man was thrilled to talk about his city and Hermione found herself jotting down names of landmarks and historical sites quickly. She could barely keep up with the speed at which he was rattling them off.  

“Thank you so much, sir,” she said when he was finished.She felt  rejuvenated. She’d have absolutely no downtime tomorrow, but she was looking forward to it. 

“You know, Granger, just because we have an off day doesn’t mean we have off,” Malfoy’s voice drawled, startled her out of her train of thought. 

She turned to find him standing behind her, swirling his glass of alcohol. 

“What?” 

“My manager is going to give you an assignment tomorrow to document load-in or something.” Malfoy waved his hand dismissively, indicating that whatever the specifics of the assignment were, he positively did not care. “If you think being on a World Tour means seeing the world, well…you’re foolish, unfortunately.” 

“I’m foolish?” Hermione scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest. 

“Just don’t want you to get your hopes up,” he told her, taking a swig of his drink. “I know how you like to learn.” 

“You think you know anything about me, Draco Malfoy?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “You haven’t seen me in nearly ten years.” 

“Now, don’t make me Silencio that pretty mouth of yours,” he smirked. “It’s just Draco, remember?” 

Hermione grew hot, blood rushing to her cheeks. What a pathetic display, really. 

“Well, Draco, why don’t you tell me something else about myself then?” she snapped. Without thinking, she mimicked him on their first meeting, taking his glass from his hand and finishing off his drink. She cringed as it went down. Whiskey. Definitely whiskey. 

“I’d rather learn something new, darling,” he said, accepting the empty glass back from her and placing it on the table beside them. “Tell me, why do you insist on going to libraries in every city you visit? Are the ones back home not good enough for you?” 

“It’s called ‘observing culture that’s not yours ,’” she told him. “The same books can live so many different lives depending on where they end up. Different covers, foreign editions, adapted vocabulary. It’s like they turn into something new based on their location.” 

Hermione could feel herself turning red again. Why had she told him all that? She sounded like an absolute nerd, that was for sure. The last thing Draco Malfoy wanted to hear about was her fascination with books. The grin on his face confirmed that. She felt like he was mocking her. 

“Perhaps you should try living like a book, then,” he told her. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Malfoy cut her off. “Just think about it.” 

He left her there, frowning and wishing for more whiskey. Was he implying that she didn’t live enough? That she needed to try something new? 

How insufferable. Shedecided that Draco Malfoy was still a cocky arsehole. Fame had only fueled that piece of him. 

Though…he was a very hot cocky arsehole now.

Maybe some more whiskey, then. 

She definitely felt the whiskey in the morning.

Hermione awoke with a headache and a crease down the side of her face from the hem of the hotel pillow case. She tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable enough to fall back asleep. But the banging in her head was too loud. 

“Hermione, are you dead?” Theo’s voice called from the other side of her room door. 

“Fuck,” Hermione muttered, pulling herself to a sitting position. 

She carefully made her way to the door, dragging it open to reveal a very lively-looking Theodore Nott. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he greeted, allowing himself into the room. Hermione groaned. “Here, take this.” 

Hehanded her a small vial. 

“Is this a potion?” she asked. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded. “I may be shunned by wizard kind, but I shall not live without their charms.” 

“You are a blessing to this planet,” Hermione sighed, downing the liquid in one go. Immediately, she began to feel better. “I didn’t bring anything with me. Was too afraid of getting caught when we passed over borders.” 

“Ah, well that’s something you learn to work around when your family is full of dark wizards,” Theo smiled. “Anyway, I thought I should get you up, as Draco’s manager Jonah will be looking for you any minute now. He has a request for the post-tour wrap-up video. He’s quite excited to have a photographer on tour with us.” 

“I’m a journalist,” Hermione said, gathering her clothes for the day and heading into the bathroom. “Photography just comes with the job.” 

“That’s enough for him. I’ll tell him you’re getting changed and to come in a bit, yeah?” 

“Thank you, Theo!” Hermione called through the bathroom wall. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re a great assistant.” 

Malfoy’s manager, however, was decidedly less pleasant. 

He wore a bluetooth earpiece and Hermione wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or to someone else over the phone at any given time.

“Cosmo, right?” he asked when she opened her hotel room door. Before Hermione could even answer, Jonah was speaking again. “Amazing. Can’t believe we got you for the tour.” 

And with that, he was leading her down the hallway to the elevator and out of the lobby to one of the buses. It wasn’t the one Hermione slept on, which was immediately apparent by the mess littering the floor. The rest of the crew must have taken the other bus. 

“I need you to let him know that if I come back from this tour and his shit is still at that desk, I’m calling in reinforcements,” Jonah said, looking straight ahead out the window. 

“Pardon?” Hermione asked. 

“Not you, dear. I’ll call you back, Mark, I gotta go.” Jonah pressed a button on his bluetooth earpiece, but still never turned to face Hermione. “No, what I need you to do is document the load-in procedure. I want before and after shots of the arena and some photos of the guys hauling in the production equipment. We’ll put together a wrap-up video when the tour is done. We did it last time and the fans loved it. We monetized the video and it was amazing to have the extra stream of revenue back home.” 

“You’re talking to me now, right?” Hermione asked, an edge to her tone. Leave it to Malfoy to have a manager who was even ruder than he was. 

“Of course, who else?” Jonah asked. “Does that all make sense?” 

“Sure,” she sighed. “How long will this take?” 

“Oh, load-in takes all day, dear.” Was that a New York accent? “You’ll have enough time to go out to the bar with the guys later.” 

Hermione slumped down in her seat. 

All day? 

So, Malfoy had been right. They really didn’t get much free time. She tried not to think about all of the museums she’d be missing out on and the cultural experiences she’d have to skip. Scotland was easy enough to come back to, but the rest of the places they still had yet to go…

Well, this was a job, after all. 

A job, apparently, that entailed travelling but not seeing anything other than her childhood enemy. 

Quite the dream job. 

Once at the arena, Jonah led her inside and pointed out a few places he wanted her to take pictures from. The load-in had already begun, and Hermione was feeling like no matter where she stood, she was in someone’s way. 

“Get the fuckin’ coffee, and don’t ask me again,” Jonah snapped, his accent coming in full-swing now. 

“What?” Hermione asked. 

“Not you,” he replied with a half-assed smile before leaving her. She couldn't imagine he’d be coming back. 

Hermione started  in the highest sections of the arena, snapping shots of the busy crew and stadium employees running around to get all the pieces to fall into place. It was quite the workout, hiking up the steep steps to reach the highest points, but she figured it was nice to at least get some exercise in the meantime.

Once she’d covered her bases with the wider shots, she made her way down to the unseated floor area, where she took wide-angled photos of the stage in its various degrees of setup. 

“Not at the library, Granger?” 

She heard Malfoy’s voice before she saw him. He walked past her camera, smirking at her through the viewfinder. She pulled away to give him a snarky response, but he was gone as quickly as he’d arrived. 

The star boy. Always had something important to do. 

It was hard to believe that these crew members did this nearly every day of the tour. Though there were many of them it didn’t seem to speed up the process of putting the stage together.

It was like watching a cauldron boil – she was tired from just observing – and she knew that some days, they had only half the time to do all of it.. 

She hoped Malfoy paid them well. 

As things started to slow down, Hermione opted for one last photo, this time from the back of the stage. It was a brilliant shot, as Malfoy was standing behind the microphone stand, communicating with some of the sound booth workers. The place was completely empty, aside from the crew members, and all of the lights were on. She knew that tomorrow night, she’d be able to get a shot from the same angle but with the stadium absolutely filled. The lights would be off everywhere but the stage, with perhaps a few lighters or cell phones up in the air. It would be the perfect shot of Malfoy in the spotlight in front of a sea of people. 

If there was one thing Hermione was going to do right, it was her job. Even if that meant standing on stage in front of the sold out arena too. 

At the sound of her shutter, Malfoy turned around. He raised his eyebrows and gave her a smug look. She wondered how his face didn’t get stuck like that. She snapped the picture anyway. 

That night, the crew went back to the hotel together, all congregating in the lobby. 

“I heard everyone is going out to a bar,” Hermione said to Theo. “You going?” 

As if on cue, Malfoy threw his arm around Theo’s neck, leaning all of his weight onto the taller boy. 

“We’re not going to a bar , Granger,” he told her. “We’re going to a strip club. ” 

Hermione’s face twisted up in disgust. How typical. She should have seen it coming. “I guess I’ll go to sleep then.” 

Malfoy chuckled at her response as she walked away, but Theo caught up to her. 

“I’m not going, either. Let’s watch a movie,” he said. 

“You’re not going?” 

“Naked women? Not my thing, exactly,” Theo told her. “No offence to the womanly body, of course.” 

Oh. Well that was news to her. 

“Wow, you really are a blessing,” she said, repeating herself from earlier. 

The two of them watched The Break-Up in Hermione’s room, splitting snacks from the overpriced bar. They laughed and criticised the whole thing, resulting in a lot more chatting than watching. 

When it was over, Theo texted Malfoy to make sure he was still alive and well. 

“I can’t believe him,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “He tells me to go out and live a little –  live differently – because we’re travelling and I’ve never been on a tour before. And yet, here he is, in Glasgow at a strip club – as if he’s never been to one! It’s despicable.” 

Theo rolled his eyes, flopping onto his back on Hermione’s bed. She followed suit. 

“You know he's just trying to rile you up,” he told her. “He likes it. We’ve been all around the world and you’re the only girl who can’t stand him. As much as he loves being doted over and having women throw themselves at him, I think it’s a nice change of scenery for him. Too much of a good thing, you know?” 

Hermione considered this. Leave it to a man to have everything he’s ever wanted and suddenly want the opposite. Someone so foul yet so admired getting off on the taste of their own medicine. 

But in a way, she felt hypocritical. His crew members were all very cute and nice (excluding Jonah) but…they did nothing for Hermione.

Yet when Malfoy and his smug little face looked in her direction, her insides started buzzing. He stuck out like a sore thumb in every room he was in. Like something ethereal amongst the mundane. At first, she thought it was just anxiety from being back in a room with someone who was the source of more than a few bad memories. But maybe it was something more like… lust . Not even she could deny that he was a walking sex symbol these days. Maybe she craved the aggression, the broodiness, and the arrogance that he had. He was the opposite of the men she usually hooked up with. 

It was nothing more than a dirty thought, of course. She had some self-respect, after all. 

“He had a crush on you, you know,” Theo said suddenly, cutting off her thoughts. “In school.” 

Hermione let out a humourless laugh. 

“Don’t even try to tell me that’s why he bullied me,” she replied. “I hate that shit.” 

“No, no, he bullied you because he was a little shit,” Theo told her, letting out a laugh of his own. “But if you ever wondered why he shut the hell up in sixth year…well, that’s why. We never heard the end of it.” 

“ We?” Hermione pressed, sitting up straight again. 

“Me, Blaise, Pansy.” 

“Oh, gods .” 

Hermione didn’t necessarily believe it, but it was a funny thought nonetheless. It would be a silly lie for Theo to make up, but school was so long ago now. Perhaps he’d remembered wrong. Or perhaps the war had driven Malfoy a tad bit insane. She figured she’d come up in conversation in the Slytherin common room at some point, but never in this context.

“Funny how we ended up here, isn’t it?” Theo asked. “All these years later.” 

“It’s certainly something,” Hermione said. 

Theo sat up as well, joining Hermione at her side. 

“Listen, I know I’m just another guy, but I hope you feel comfortable being around us. No one on this tour has done anything shady, Draco and I have made sure of it,” he said, his tone serious. “Draco treats women well. Very well. Still has those pureblood manners. He wouldn’t work with anyone who even thought they could get away with some shit. But you let me know if anyone makes you uncomfortable, okay?” 

Hermione’s heart felt like bursting. It was uncomfortable being surrounded by so many men, no matter how strong she knew herself to be. Sleeping on the bus meant sleeping with her keys under her pillow. Sleeping in the hotel room alone meant checking the locks at least five times. 

“Thanks, Theo,” she said quietly as he got up to leave. “See you tomorrow.” 

With the relief she felt in his wake, something else prodded its way to the forefront of her brain. 

Draco treats women well. Very well. Still has those pureblood manners. 

That really shouldn’t have gotten her as worked up as it did. 

Malfoy really wasn’t helping Hermione’s inner-battle with herself. In fact, if she hadn't known any better, she would think he was reading her mind. Sending her signals to push her in one direction rather than the other. 

The night he took the stage in Glasgow, everything was fine from up in the higher sections. Hermione took her photos, patted herself on the back, and moved onto the next area. 

It was harder to get shots from the general admission section, as no one wanted to let her cut through to the middle and some people were even crowd-surfing. Hermione decided she valued not having a concussion, thank you very much. 

And so all that was left was that shot from the stage. 

She braced herself, making her way to the side stage area and showing her pass. With one shaky foot onto the stage, she quickly made her way over to crouch in front of the drum set. She didn’t look up until she needed to. Feeling a bit dizzy from the new perspective of the arena, she quickly held her camera up to her face, letting the viewfinder be her only window to the real world. All she needed was that one shot of Malfoy. 

He had taken his shirt off, his back large, toned, and tattooed. It was slick with sweat and Hermione nearly felt her mouth water. Absolutely ridiculous, was what it was. She took her first photo and watched as Malfoy lifted up his guitar in front of his face. The strings were facing him. There was no way he could play like that. Yet he was most definitely playing, as the guitar was very clear, even amongst the muffled audio of being directly on stage with her earplugs in. The crowd began screaming at a decibel they had not yet reached previously. 

What was he doing? 

Hermione lowered her camera to get a better look. But there was no need. Slowly, Malfoy turned to the side. 

That’s when she saw his tongue sticking out of his mouth, licking the strings with precision. 

She stared, unable to take her eyes off of the spectacle. He had so much control over his tongue. He put so much power into each lick. She was too far away to see every detail, but she watched as the strings reverberated up the neck of the guitar. She could see the perfect curl of his tongue as the tip hit its mark each time. His eyes were closed and his head tilted back, as if it was giving him pleasure; as if the guitar was giving back to him. But when he opened them, they darted over to Hermione. 

She nearly jumped out of her skin, her trance breaking abruptly. She held her camera back up with just enough time to catch him drop his guitar, turn directly towards her, and give her that same smug look he’d given her the day before. 

She’d gotten the shot. 

But she didn’t dare leave the stage yet. 

She’d forgotten her fear of the endless abyss of people out there; her attention only on Malfoy. He ran around the stage, gripping the neck of his guitar tightly in a veiny hand. He pushed his hair out of his eyes as if it was the most sensual thing he’d ever done. And he shouted for the crowd’s attention as if he’d be willing to die for it. It sent a hot sensation down her body, where it settled tightly in her abdomen. 

So, that was settled then. 

Draco Malfoy had exactly what Hermione Granger wanted. 

Not a Ministry man, not a muggle with a finance job, not a man too meek to give her what she wanted. 

Yes, she’d meant what she said; she was a feminist through and through. She deserved respect and she did, in fact, have some for herself. Just enough, conveniently, to let herself have this. 

It’s not like she was looking for a husband to marry tomorrow. Just someone who finally knew what to do with her. Someone to fuck her without consequence.

Would it make him even cockier to know that he’d seduced the one person who had hated him all their lives? Probably. But that was a two way street. As long as she came, Hermione would call it a victory on her end. 

Now all she needed was to get Malfoy on board too. 

Chapter Text

Playlist

Okay, yes, so she’d told Ginny she wouldn’t sleep with a stranger. 

And that was still true. 

Draco Malfoy wasn’t a stranger. 

Her childhood bully? Yes. 

Her academic rival in school? Yes. 

Her full-on enemy when he’d taken the Dark Mark? Almost. 

But never a stranger. 

In fact, as little as she’d like to admit to it, their past was beginning to fuel the fire that he had set alight in her. 

It would be unexpected and, perhaps to some, even a little wrong. 

Not that anyone else would know. It was the concept alone that revved her up, made her want more. 

Plus, if she was going to be travelling to all of these different countries with absolutely no time to see anything educational, she’d take something pleasurable as a fair trade-off. 

How hard could it be, anyway? The porn magazines, the way he made love to his guitar… he was as horny as she was. All she needed to do was play the player. 

She’d fought a war, for Merlin’s sake. This was nothing she couldn't handle. 

‘This one will be easy,’ she thought as her eyes fluttered shut on the bus ride out of Glasgow. 

Quite the contrary, as she would soon find out. It would not be easy.

After the night ended in Glasgow and the crew boarded the buses back to the hotel, Hermione asked Theo what was taking so long. . If she had to fall asleep on the bus again, she was sure to lose her mind. 

“We’re waiting for ‘ T he Prince ,’ remember?” Theo responded. 

Hermione jumped out of her seat and ran over to the window. The outside of the bus had tinted windows, but she still only poked her head out from behind the curtain slightly. 

And of course, there he was. 

Malfoy had a sharpie in hand, signing various posters, CDs, prints, and even some of the girls’ skin. He stopped to pose for some pictures and every now and then, he let one of the muggle girls chat his ear off. He listened intently, nodding along to whatever she was saying and giving encouraging smiles. One girl looked like she was about to cry. Draco brought her in for a hug, which only made her cry harder. 

“I can’t believe he does this,” Hermione muttered, shaking her head. 

“He could be in Azkaban with his father right now. I think he’ll take the love and attention where he can get it,” Theo told her.

It seemed they really were quite removed from the Wizarding World these days. Throwing Azkaban into the middle of a sentence like an old gag felt a bit jarring, but Hermione supposed he had a point. 

She continued to watch as Malfoy took one of the girls’ hands in his and brought it up face, kissing it. Then he said something which Hermione thought to be ‘ thank you, darling,’ and she had to physically restrain her sound of disgust. 

So he did use those terms of endearment on everyone. Merlin, he spoke to Hermione like she was one of his fans. That simply wouldn’t do. 

Malfoy only made matters worse, however, as Hermione watched one of the older looking girls whisper something to him. Draco smirked and accepted a little piece of paper from her, which he slipped into his pocket. 

“Don’t tell me he texts these girls,” Hermione said, backing away from the window quickly. 

Theo shrugged. “When the rest of the fans are gone, he’ll give his chosen one the hotel room number. I’m not allowed in for a little bit, so I guess we’ll be having a girl’s night tonight.” 

“You’re saying he sleeps with them?” she demanded. 

“I would assume so.” 

Hermione huffed. 

Well, this was just unacceptable. If he had been giving Hermione bedroom eyes this whole time, she fully intended to take him… to the bedroom!

 If he wanted something, why wouldn’t he ask her? 

Theo said Malfoy liked having her around because she was contradictory to the way all his fans acted towards him. Clearly, he’d misread the situation. 

The obvious path forward was to act like a fan. Should she go out and wait with them, as well? 

That was one thing that would never happen. No, she needed a new plan. 

Leave it to Hermione Granger to turn her pursuit of shagging a man into a project of sorts. An assignment. 

The goal wasn’t to get him. The goal was to get off. 

They arrived at the border of Scotland the next afternoon. The upcoming ferry to Ireland wouldn’t  leave for another hour, and they still had to wait for their tour buses to be picked up and transported. 

The crew decided on getting lunch at a nearby pub and Hermione looked for her chance to slide into a seat next to Malfoy. 

Alas, being the newbie on the tour meant not knowing the normal seating arrangements of these things. 

Jonah and Theo sandwiched Malfoy, and Tades even tried to push Hermione down a seat until Theo grabbed her by the arm and gave him a look. 

“Ladies first, Tadie,” he said. 

Tades put his hands up in a defensive gesture before moving a seat down. “My bad.” 

There wouldn’t have been much opportunity to speak to Malfoy anyway, had she gotten the seat next him that she desired. His manager, Jonah, dictated the conversation, telling tour stories in his booming American accent. Anyone was lucky to get in a word or two. Mostly, the rest of the crew just laughed along and was grateful when the food arrived so he had a reason to be quiet. 

Hermione was leaning her chin on her hand, peering around Theo and Malfoy to get a better look at the Tour Manager. Didn’t he get a sore throat from speaking so much? Did Malfoy really share a bus with this guy without casting Silencio? Maybe he did, and this was the first time Jonah had been able to open his mouth in hours. 

Malfoy turned to look at her, giving her a slight eye roll and shaking his head. His look almost said ‘sorry about this guy’ and Hermione giggled quietly. 

Theo side-eyed her. She shrugged at him, which made Malfoy smile crookedly. 

Oh, gods.  

It was like she was at the bloody Gryffindor table, flirting with someone a few seats away from her, but trying not to get caught during McGonagall’s speech. 

She was twenty-seven, for Godric’s sake –not some school girl. 

Regardless, Hermione was hot on Malfoy’s tail when they finally boarded the ferry to Ireland. She lost Theo at the gate, as he had taken a liking to the man who was checking everyone’s tickets. 

“Malfoy,” she called as he made his way to the upper deck of the boat. 

No response. She gritted her teeth. 

“ Draco.” 

“Granger,” he replied, turning around and giving her a smile. He motioned to the seat he had stopped next to and she took it. He sat down next to her, leaving her trapped between the railing to her right and his built figure to her left, which she’d yet to be this close to. Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes glazed over his tattoos. She wanted to press herself up against him, feeling his muscles. She wanted to – 

“You should say that more often.” 

“What?” 

“My name,” he told her. 

“I could be persuaded.” She gave him a sultry look, hoping he caught on. He raised his eyebrows at her, looking impressed rather than surprised. 

“You’ll have to learn how to say mine, though.” she said cheekily.

“Now, that , I’m not sure I can do,” he said, putting his sunglasses on his head and looking over Hermione’s shoulder at the view of the open water. His arm was behind her, resting on the back of their seat. She leaned on it, ever so slightly. “I don’t even think I remember it.” 

“Bollocks. I heard you used to have a little crush on me,” she smiled. “Don’t play coy.” 

Draco’s smugness twisted into a frown. 

“Nosy Nott tell you that?” he asked. Hermione nodded, quite pleased with herself. Malfoy turned his attention back to her. “Well, pray tell, what was your reaction?” 

Okay, this was her opening. 

“I think, if you ever want to man up and own it–” she began, but was cut off when  Jonah appeared behind Draco, tapping him on the shoulder. 

“You’ve got a call, Mr. Black, sir.” 

It was jarring to hear him speak in such a quiet, respectful tone. 

“Sorry, Granger,” Malfoy said before leaving his seat. He gave her a firm pat on the shoulder. 

Hermione scowled. How sensual. 

Theo dropped down in the empty seat beside her. He grinned, handing her a little piece of paper with a phone number on it. 

“You do realise that you don’t live in Ireland or Scotland, right?” she asked, offering the paper back to him. 

“Okay, Miss Sourpuss,” Theo snatched the number out of her hand, “Rude! It’s the principle of the thing.” 

Hermione laughed. “He was very cute.” 

“I know.” 

That cheeky grin crept up on his face. He let his head fall back, soaking up the sun. 

The next time she saw Malfoy was in the hotel itself. 

He nudged her with his elbow as she received her room key. 

“Might need to stop by yours later if Theo brings a boy home,” he raised his eyebrows suggestively. 

Hermione met him with a bitter glare. “Oh, look who has time to speak to me now.” 

She turned and walked towards the elevators, pleased to hear him following behind her. 

“Looking for my attention, Granger?” he asked. 

“Some acknowledgement would be nice,” she told him. Her arm reached out to hit the elevator button, but Malfoy beat her to it. 

“After getting your direct invitation, I thought I’d be the guest of honour,” she continued.

“I’m afraid that title is always reserved for me. But I’ll see if some arrangements can be made.”

They stepped onto the elevator together and Hermione opened her mouth to invite him to her hotel room.  Just so he would know where it was, should he need to vacate his own for Theo that night. Obviously.

“Draco!” A voice called before an arm shot into the elevator, stopping the doors from closing. It was Theo. “Jonah needs you.” 

Draco shot Hermione a wistful look. “I’ll see you later, Granger.” 

So this was going to be an all-out rat race, then. Shagging one of the most famous people in all of Europe was proving to be quite hard. 

The two boys exchanged places, Theo stepping into the elevator with Hermione. She threw her head into Theo’s chest and groaned deeply. 

“You good?” Theo asked, putting a hand on her back. 

“It’s hard work trying to get the most coveted dick in rock and roll,” she muttered into his shirt. 

“Woah, don’t tell me you’re trying to–” The elevator ding cut Theo off. Hermione’s floor. 

“You heard nothing, Theodore,” she smiled as the elevator doors closed behind her. 

There was a reason, Hermione would come to find out, just why that dick was so coveted. 

The night of the Dublin show, tensions were high as part of the stage props had been delayed while crossing the border from Scotland. No matter where she went, Hermione couldn’t get away from Jonah and his shouting. 

He walked down the halls of the backstage area, yelling into his bluetooth earpiece. He barreled onto the bus, asking where Collin and Tades had gone. When Hermione considered going back to the hotel, he even asked if he could hitch a ride with her, as he needed a more private place to take his call. On second thought, Hermione decided she really shouldn't leave the venue before the show started. It would be much harder to get in once they were letting the fans inside. 

She wandered the back halls, deep into the quiet parts of the arena, until she found nothing but unmarked, locked doors. Feeling defeated, she made her way back to the section that was bustling with the rest of the crew. 

Security guards carried water to the barricade, Collin ran Malfoy’s guitars carefully up the steps to the stage, and a group of arena workers were being briefed on the different types of VIP passes and guest wristbands. 

In the middle of it all, the main greenroom door was hanging slightly opened. A sign taped to the chipping paint read ‘ DRACO AND CREW .’ 

Hermione pushed the door open further, peeking her head in to see if anyone was inside. The room resembled the one she had met Malfoy in at the O2. Mini fridges, a door with a bathroom symbol, and some sofas gathered around a table. A TV on the wall was playing some sort of reality show, the volume all the way up to drown out the outside noise, but the room was empty. Satisfied, she closed the door behind her, took a seat on one of the sofas, and unpacked her camera and laptop. She had yet to do any editing and Evelyn was sure to want some coverage of the tour thus far. 

As she waited for her SD card to upload onto the computer, she caught a bit of the reality show. The quality was terrible; she could barely make out why the two people were even arguing in  the first place. Then a corny transition carried over to some sort of show host, who made terrible puns about the scene that had just played out. 

That was the thing about these shows. They were so bad, you just simply couldn’t look away. Hermione was so invested, she barely heard the door open. 

The bathroom door. 

But then she saw someone move out of the corner of her eye.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was– OH GOD !” Hermione stood up abruptly, her laptop nearly hitting the ground before she caught it, fumbling, at the last second.  That should have been her out. Check the laptop, make sure it’s alright. But she had to look at him again. 

There stood Draco Malfoy, fresh out of the shower, a towel in his hand.

Completely naked.

His skin was smooth and shining everywhere that it wasn’t scarred, which was mostly across his chest and abdomen, but some of the scars wrapped lower around his body. Particularly around those ridiculously muscular things. She tried to look anywhere else – his wet hair, his chest that was finally exposed in clear lighting and not diluted by the strobing stage lights, at any one of his many tattoos. 

Anywhere.

But all she could see was his cock, hanging off him like a third leg. Something glittered in the light and Hermione felt her stomach twist a million times over. 

“Are you just going to stare at it?” he asked, feigning a bored tone. His arm that was holding the towel fell limp at his side. 

“Are you not going to cover it up ?” she asked, her panicked eyes darting up to his face and back down quickly. 

“You seemed interested,” he shrugged. 

“It’s pierced! ” Hermione said, quite stupidly, if she could say so herself. 

“Well spotted.” 

Hermione kept staring at his cock, even though her brain was absolutely begging her to look away . How could she, what with its sheer length and silver bar of jewellery  just below the tip. 

Finally, Draco sighed and covered himself up, wrapping the towel around his waist. “Are you a virgin or something?” 

Hermione met his eyes, trying to ignore the fact that her face was approximately a million degrees. She scoffed. “You think I’m a twenty-seven year old virgin?” 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he smirked. 

“You’re foul.” She scrunched up her nose.

“So is that little book you read every night.” Now he was smiling fully, knowing he’d got her. “Theo tells me things too.” 

“Whatever,” she spat, feeling as if she had thoroughly thrown away her perfect way in. He had been naked, cock out, and she’d done nothing but stare at it. How pathetic.. “You know, this is a shared area for the crew. You should really be more conscientious of where you’re swinging that thing.” 

“Well, I’ve certainly heard that one before. Besides, the rest of the crew are men. I’m not used to having a woman around.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means that if the other guys see my cock, they don’t turn into blustering fools ,” he told her, cracking open one of the mini fridges and taking a drink. He was walking dangerously close to her now. With so little between her and… it. 

A knock on the door made her jump. 

“Fuck, okay, I’m leaving,” she said, gathering her things quickly. “Get back in the bathroom.” 

“See how other people knock?” He flashed her a smile before disappearing behind the bathroom door again. 

Theo had been the culprit of the knock on the door and Hermione greeted him quickly before heading down the hallway to find somewhere – anywhere - –else to edit her photos. 

But she soon discovered that being alone was somehow worse. As she flipped through the pictures she’d taken from the past few nights, she stared at Malfoy’s face on her screen and couldn’t bury the fact that she now knew what his cock looked like. 

And fuck , it was a nice one. 

Hermione had never known a man crazy enough to actually get his dick pierced. 

Again, something so unexpected, yet so suitable for Draco Malfoy. He would be just cocky and crass enough to pierce his dick. 

And, gods , she could only imagine what it would feel like on her g-spot. 

Chapter Text

Playlist

Hermione woke up quite determined that today would be the day she’d get dicked down by the most cocksure prat on this side of the Atlantic. 

By her calculations, it would take at least another day for all of the equipment to arrive in Copenhagen, while the crew simply had a bit over two hours on the plane to endure in the meantime.

Who could possibly need Malfoy in the time between then? A few phone calls, maybe, but there was still a whole day ahead. 

She found it quite irritating that Malfoy got a first class seat while the rest of the crew was condemned to the main cabin. Perhaps it was typical for a high-profile tour, but she let herself be annoyed nonetheless, as that was the feeling he inspired in her. 

One of them, at least. 

Hermione found herself in a window seat, where she shamelessly fell asleep on Theo’s shoulder. She only moved when Theo himself started snoring, leaning directly on her head. She took to looking out the window for the rest of the flight, while the boy’s head lolled back against the headrest. 

Flights made her grumpy. They always had, even when she was young and her parents would take her on family vacations. 

That was…another reason she’d been able to stay away from her parents for so long. With the “no magic” rule set in place in regards to travelling to see them, Hermione always thought about the devastatingly long plane ride to Australia with an ill feeling. Now, she remembered why. 

Her ears had popped and the white noise created by the aeroplane made it hard for her to focus on her book. The seat itself made her feel dirty, like she needed a shower, and there was no cleaning charm that would take that feeling away. She wondered how Malfoy possibly adjusted to this way of living after knowing the convenience of apparating. If a muggle-born had this level of hatred for aeroplanes, surely a pureblood would despise it. Though, the first class seat probably helped his case. 

When they landed, Hermione woke Theo with a hard shove. He came to and furrowed his brows at her. 

“You’re a feisty one,” he grumbled, collecting his bags and heading down the aisle. 

Yes, she would definitely need a shower and a nap before she tried to make any sort of move, that was certain. Perhaps a meal, too. 

This constant travelling couldn’t be good for anyone, she was sure. Yet Malfoy was all grins and swagger, as always, as they all waited for a bus to come pick them up. She imagined he probably got shagged regularly, which she supposed would help to remove some of the tension and frustration built up by such a lifestyle.

That pissed her off even more. 

“You look absolutely miserable,” Theo told her when they pulled up to the hotel. She realised she hadn’t said a word the entire drive over.  

“Thank you?” she snapped. 

“Tour life getting to you?” He slung her backpack over his shoulder, leaving her to carry just her purse, which she was grateful for. 

Even if she didn’t say so.

“Amongst other things.” 

“Do tell.” 

“No,” Hermione sighed. “I just want to take a shower and a nap and then I’m going to – ” 

As the air conditioning of the hotel lobby hit them like a wall, so did the sound of a woman squealing. 

‘Oh, here we go,’ Hermione thought. ‘ Fans already.’

But as she watched, Malfoy dropped his belongings and wrapped his arms around a woman who buried her face into his shoulder with familiarity. It was only when the woman pulled away that Hermioe got a good look at her face. 

Strong cheekbones, wide eyes, white teeth, and ridiculously perfect blonde hair. 

“Mommy’s in town.” Theo nudged Hermione with his elbow and smiled. 

“I thought she lived in France,” Hermione pouted. It had been many years since she’d seen Narcissa Malfoy. And her last memory of her wasn’t exactly positive. She couldn’t help the feeling of dread that washed over her, but she tried to fight it using techniques a mind healer had taught her several years ago.

It hadn’t been Narcissa’s fault. She’d helped Harry in the end. It was all just an unfortunate association. 

“She’s out of town during our Paris show. She’ll stay for Copenhagen and then leave for her adventure,” Theo explained. “Which I believe is a world tour of its own, just with old rich women and tea instead of screaming girls and beer.” 

Hermione would have laughed if the circumstances had been different. 

As it were, Narcissa’s visit was going to completely ruin her plan. 

“Plus, it’s his birthday. She’s the only one he’ll let celebrate it,” Theo continued, grabbing her by the elbow. “Come on, let’s go say hi.” 

“Theo – ” she warned. But Narcissa had already heard. 

“Theodore!” she exclaimed, removing her hands from Draco’s arms to give Theo an equally big hug. “It’s been a while, I’ve missed you. Did you get taller?” 

“Yes, Mrs. Black, I certainly did,” Theo joked. “I took a potion back in school that makes me keep growing so I can embarrass your son.” 

“You’re barely an inch taller than me,” Malfoy grumbled, rolling his eyes. 

Narcissa pulled away, holding Theo at arm’s length. Her eyes travelled fondly over his face, and checked his body for any scuffs or scars as if she was the mother of a naughty toddler. 

Then her eyes found  Hermione. A gasp escaped her lips. 

“Well, it can’t be,” she breathed, taking a step towards her. She looked back at Draco with a shocked expression, almost as if asking if he could see Hermione too. “Hermione Granger?” 

Hermione’s brain short-circuited for a second. What was she supposed to say to this woman? ‘ It’s nice to see you again,’ would be a bit of a stretch. She wouldn’t call her Mrs. Black, but Narcissa seemed wrong right off the bat. 

“Hello,” she decided. And then Narcissa’s arms were around her, embracing her the same way she had embraced her son and his best friend. “Oh!” 

Hermione’s arms cautiously wrapped around her and she gave Theo a bewildered look. He smiled, but Malfoy looked like he was watching the most uncomfortable spectacle of his life. She’d never seen his face scrunch up in such a pained expression. 

“What are you doing here?” Narcissa asked when she pulled away. “Draco never told me you two had reconnected.” 

“It’s a long story, Mother.” Malfoy put his hand on her shoulder and tried to guide her away. 

“Oh, well, today we’re going to visit some friends in the area but would you like to go to lunch together? The three of us? I would love to catch up,” she said as if they were lifelong friends;like Hermione had gone over to the Manor for playdates and not to get tortured on the drawing room floor. 

“ Mother, ” Draco warned. 

Hermione felt like she should have been mad, offended, upset…or maybe disgusted? Instead, however,  she felt her mood lifting. The emotional plight the interaction seemed to be invoking in Malfoy was just… delicious . This would be the perfect chance to torture him just a bit and also assert her dominance in his life for the next few days. 

Maybe Denmark wouldn’t be a loss after all. 

“I’d love to,” she told Narcissa, giving her a wide smile. When her eyes travelled over to Malfoy, she let her lips curl into a smirk. He looked too panicked to give it back to her. 

“Wonderful!” Narcissa clasped her hands together in excitement before turning back to Theo. “And Theodore, dear, you’ll be joining Draco and I to see the Antonsens? You boys know I love them, but you’ll have to glamour your pretty little tattoos. Don’t want to give them a heart attack, do we?” 

“Don’t strain yourself, mother. He knows you hate them,” Malfoy chimed in. Narcissa smacked him on the arm. 

“Oh, Mrs. Black I can’t go – ” Theo began. 

“ – You’re going,” Draco nearly barked at him. 

“But I’m the devil of pureblood society!” Theo bemoaned.

“Nonsense, Theodore, that’s my son,” Narcissa told him, and Hermione reckoned she was being quite serious. “Besides, the Antonsens hate your parents as much as you do.” 

Hermione held back a laugh. There was something so… classically pureblood about Narcissa, yet she seemed much less reserved and buttoned-up than Hermione remembered her to be. 

Surely this lunch would be interesting, then. 

She nearly couldn’t wait to call Ginny and give her the entire recap. 

“Have fun, then,” Hermione told them all cheerily. “I’ll see you later, Theo. And I can’t wait for lunch tomorrow, Narcissa.” 

She smiled and reached out to grab the Lady Malfoy’s hands, giving them a squeeze. Draco looked positively ill. It only made Hermione want to ham up the innocent Golden Girl routine around Narcissa even more. She was just a kind, reserved bookworm, after all — not a sexual deviant trying to bicker her way into Draco’s pants. Playing a character should make the memories of the Malfoy family and household much easier to deal with. 

With her mood thoroughly improved, Hermione decided to seize the free time in wake of Malfoy’s absence by hitting as many museums as she could. Considering she was one of those people who actually took time to read the plaques, she only got around to…two of them. 

While in the National Museum, her phone began to vibrate in her bag. Ginny’s ears must have been ringing from her thoughts earlier.

“Hello?” she answered, exiting to an outdoor courtyard. 

“Hermione Granger, have you lost your mind?” Ginny’s voice was loud and grating. Hermione had told her a million times her lips didn't need to be touching the phone speaker, but it seemed the message still wasn’t getting through. 

“I believe so, but why do you ask?” 

“You’ve been on the road with Malfoy for over a week and you haven't even texted!?” 

“It’s busy! Not a lot of downtime,” Hermione told her. It wasn’t a lie, really, but what else did she have to say to Ginny? ‘Malfoy is extremely attractive and I want to jump his bones’ would be quite the shock. Also, the redhead told her husband everything . Next thing she knew, Harry would be in Denmark in his full Auror uniform casting a Sectumsempra on the poor guy again. 

“So…how is he?” Ginny pressed. 

Hermione sighed. “I don’t know, fine, I guess. I don’t see him a lot, he’s always caught up in something. But I’ve been spending time with Theo – Theodore Nott. He’s quite pleasant.” 

“ Theodore Nott? I haven’t thought of that name in years.” 

“Well, I have something even better for you,” Hermione began. “Tomorrow, I’m going out to lunch with Narcissa Malfoy .” 

Ginny gasped so loudly, Hermione had to hold the phone away from her ear for a second. 

“This is crazy, why are you going out with Malfoy’s mum?” she asked.

“ And Malfoy,” Hermione added. “I was invited.” 

“You’ll have to tell me everything.” 

“I plan to.” 

Turns out, there wasn’t much to tell. 

Hermione wore one of the nicer dresses she – or rather, Ginny –  had packed. She had no idea where Narcissa was taking them, but knowing the Malfoys, it was sure to be on the fancier side. 

She met Malfoy in the lobby, who gave her his usual once over. His lips twisted into that cocky little smile she had gotten so used to, but this time it didn’t just fill her with annoyance at his arrogance. There was something…more. 

A hot pang twisted in her stomach and travelled down to her core. Even the way he was looking at her now felt erotic. Gods, if only she hadn’t seen his infuriatingly beautiful cock. 

Hermione frowned and shifted the hem of her dress. She really did not need to sit in wet knickers across from Narcissa Malfoy. 

“Trying to undress me in your mind?” she asked, looking pointedly away from him. 

“I think it’s only fair, love,” he purred. 

A shiver ran down her spine, much to her vexation. This was going to be a long day. 

She took a deep breath through her nose and gave him a sarcastic smile. 

“How was your birthday?” 

“Absolutely dreadful,” he said plainly. 

“Oh, good.” 

He stuck his elbow out in her direction instead of responding. 

“Shall we?” he asked. Hermione looked at his extended arm, from his elbow to to his shoulder, where his thick black polo strained around his muscles. 

Finally, her eyes made their way up to meet his. He was looking at her expectantly. 

“Well, go on, I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Slowly, Hermione slid her hand around the crook of his elbow and held on firmly, pretending she didn’t feel lightning strike her fingertips as their skin met. 

“How should I know?” she said, feigning innocence.

“I believe you were the one who punched me in the face, actually.” 

“Yes, and you cried like a little baby.” 

“I deserved it.” 

“Perhaps I’ll do it again.” 

“Not in front of my mother, dear,” Draco said, opening the cab door and motioning inside. “She doesn’t need to know what I’m into.” 

“You’re – ” 

“Foul. I know.” he smirked.

She was about to berate him for addressing her in the same way that he addresses his fans – after seeing him call that girl ‘ darling,’ she’d been absolutely justified in her annoyance at his terms of endearment –  but he flashed Hermione that horribly suggestive smile again and she looked away instead,  her cheeks flooding with heat. 

She’d never been interested in men who held all the power; the upper-hand. Usually she took control and played the role of the bold, abrasive one. It was completely degrading that he made her feel like this…and also absolutely, delightfully freeing. 

They rode in silence to the little restaurant where Narcissa was waiting for them. As Hermione began to open her door, Draco grasped her arm tightly, holding her back. 

“My mother… you should know that she – ” he began. But Narcissa had stepped forward, pulling open Hermione’s door and leaning down to wave at them. 

“Draco, won’t you open her door for her?” she scolded. 

Malfoy exited the car and made his way around the back, joining his mother at her side. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before turning to Hermione. 

“She didn’t give me the chance, Mother. Plus, I don’t think she wants help,” he said. “Will you bite me if I offer my hand when I know you’re entirely capable of getting out of a car on your own?” 

Good. So, he still saw her as a woman that could manage completely fine on her own. 

But if she wanted to be shagged within an inch of her life, she was going to have to start showing some submissiveness. She held her hand out and Malfoy took it, helping her out of the car. 

Hermione was greeted with another one of Narcissa’s hugs, which still didn’t feel quite right. She feared if she squeezed too hard, the woman would shatter like porcelain. Or if her curly brown hair at all touched that pristine, straight blonde of Narcissa’s, it would muddle. 

The three of them were led into the – as expected – upscale restaurant, whose dining room resembled a greenhouse. Floor to ceiling windows gave view to a lush backyard, while the A-frame wooden ceilings had vines spilling down from them. 

It was a wizarding place, Hermione realised upon seeing the candles floating above them not unlike in Hogwarts. Draco pulled out both Hermione’s and Narcissa’s seats. The women faced each other as he settled beside Hermione. 

Lunch started out uneventful enough. Narcissa ordered a bottle of wine for the table and requested absolutely anything that the chef would recommend. She pulled a stack of photos out of her purse and passed them around one at a time, explaining that they were establishments and institutions she had funded. When she left after the Copenhagen show, she’d be going to check on their progress.

There was a hospital in America, a school for higher wizarding education in Iceland, and a vast herbology lab in Croatia. It all looked incredibly pristine. Hermione couldn’t fathom the amount of money that must have been poured into these endeavours. Clearly, Narcissa kept herself busy after the war, and in quite a charitable way. 

“You like books, don’t you, Hermione?” she asked, handing her a photo of a new place. “This is the projectI’m funding in Turkey.” 

It took a moment for the contents of the photo to settle in. It was a massive library. 

Hermione had never seen a library quite like it. The picture had been taken at a wide angle and yet, the ceiling still wasn’t able to make the frame. What looked like ten stories of books lined every possible inch of the photo. In the middle of it all was a study area with ornate wooden tables and chairs. Hermione let out a small gasp as she realised it was exactly how she would have pictured the Library of Alexandria if it was still around today. 

Ethereal and absolutely teeming with endless knowledge. 

“This is… unbelievable,” she breathed. “All of those books. I can’t even imagine…” 

“I’m sure you’ve read them all anyway,” Malfoy chimed in, leaning over her shoulder to see the picture. 

“I would love to have you visit when it’s done,” Narcissaa smiled, taking her photos back. She shimmied happily in her seat, taking one last look at the library before putting it away. Hermione was still in a haze of awe. 

“I will definitely be there,” she said, and she meant it. Even if she wasn’t extended a personal invitation, Hermione would find her way there someday. That library was going to be in her dreams for a long time. “What inspired you to fund all these places? Were they all your ideas?” 

Narcissa waved her hand. 

“Oh, no, no. I get tons of mail. Or I did , before I moved. Different wizards and witches proposed their ideas to me and asked if I would help fund them. Word gets out when you have noble house money,” she explained. “I never got to entertain any of the ideas before. But with no distractions, I thought ‘ why not? ’ These are the ones I thought were needed the most. Until the next batch.” 

“That’s really great. It’s wonderful you’re doing that,” Hermione told her. So, the Malfoy money wasn’t just going towards keeping the Ministry quiet about Draco’s second life, then. It was none of her business, but she found that thought quite relieving. 

Narcissa continued to talk about her projects, her friends, and her travels as the food arrived in small plates and was quickly consumed. Hermione became well aware of the fact that if there were any pureblood table manners far beyond normal manners, she didn’t know them. But no one seemed to mind. 

She was glad to not talk about herself, and even found that Narcissa served as quite a good distraction to her very attractive son, who looked ridiculously handsome as he tossed the salad the waiter had set down. 

This irony was not lost on Hermione. 

“But enough about me. I’m sorry, I tend to ramble. I only really speak to people via owl these days,” Narcissa said eventually, bursting Hermione’s little bubble. “I want to know how in the world you ended up here. I never, never saw that one coming. Never thought I’d see you again, honestly.” 

Hermione smiled politely. That made two of them. 

“Well, if you can keep a secret, I work a second job as a journalist for a muggle magazine,” she admitted. “Obviously, your son here is a hit in popular culture. My role is in entertainment reviews, so I was assigned to work his London gig. I heard they needed a tour photographer, so here I am.” 

Hermione looked over at Malfoy, who didn’t react to the last part of her statement. The two of them were still avoiding that topic of conversation; why he’d asked for her…why she’d said yes. 

“Your secret is safe with me. The Ministry does not hear from me these days,” Narcissa told her. “But, I must say, I’m surprised. Are you unhappy with your other position?” 

“Oh, no, I love it! I'm the executive officer for the Care of Magical Creatures. It’s my passion.” 

“Then why take a muggle job? You’re the Golden Girl! ”  – the title made Hermione scrunch up her nose – “Surely you have good rapport in the Wizarding World? The Ministry treats you well?” 

“Actually, I’m not sure they like me very much,” she forced a chuckle. “I want to undo all of the outdated laws they have in place. You know, free the house elves. Stop the breeding of dragons. Plus… I’m still a muggle-born. The prejudice hasn’t left.” 

Malfoy shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Narcissa’s eyes flickered over to him briefly, but she maintained her composure. 

“I think that’s incredible, Hermione. You should work towards all of that. A young, fresh mind in the Ministry is what they need,” she told her. As an afterthought, she added, “We, of course, let all of our elves free after the war.” 

She had changed, then. Both of the Malfoys at the table with her had. So then why was Draco white-knuckling his fork? What could he possibly be worried that his mother would say? 

“You still never told me why you decided to join the tour,” he said quickly, hoping for a change of subject.

“And I never will,” Hermione replied, lifting her chin up proudly. 

“Why not?” he frowned and looked at her, his intense stare making her forget about Narcissa entirely for a moment. 

“I told you, it’s none of your business,” she volleyed. “Besides, you never told me why you asked my manager in the first place.” 

“That’s clearly none of your business,” he replied. Hermione’s heart raced for a second. She had always secretly enjoyed the banter between her and Malfoy, even when it was a little more malicious. There was something satisfying about returning his energy to him. She was argumentative at her core; something her friends never appreciated much. With him, she wasn’t brushed off. 

“Look at you two, still bickering like Slytherin and Gryffindor. Were you like this in school?” Narcissa’s voice broke the trance they had found themselves in. Their expressions fell as the mood dropped once more. Hermione looked away, finding interest in her plate. 

“Actually,” she said quietly, “He bullied me relentlessly.” 

Hermione could feel mother and son exchanging glances, even with her gaze pointed downward. 

“Oh, dear, well it was probably because he liked you. I remember when you guys were thirteen and I would tease Draco that he must have a crush on you. He spoke about you far too often –” 

“Mother – ” Draco cut her off. 

“No, it’s cute. He’d come home and stand in this little room we had in the Manor. Such a lovely room, actually. I think about it a lot – ” 

The mention of Malfoy Manor from Narcissa’s mouth transported Hermione straight back there. Being dragged by the snatchers, questioned by the Death Eaters… subconsciously, her hand drifted over to her opposing forearm to brush over the scar she currently had glamoured. 

“ Mother.” 

“His father would say – ” 

“ Mother!” Draco’s voice echoed through the dining room. Hermione looked further down, cringing at the attention he must have just brought upon them. The silence that followed was worse; palpable, thick, and uncomfortable. 

“You’re right,” Narcissa said eventually with a shaky breath. “Best not to talk about him.” 

“I don’t believe Hermione has fond memories of the Manor, either,” Draco added. 

Hermione’s head shot up to look at him, but he was looking straight ahead with a pained look on his face. Narcissa’s expression fell and Hermione almost felt bad for her. She clearly hadn’t meant any harm. She watched as the realisation hit and Narcissa remembered exactly the last time she had seen Hermione.

But what was there to talk about, really? What did they have in common? 

Should they talk about her sister Bellatrix, who had tortured and scarred Hermione forever? She was dead. Perhaps her other sister’s daughter, Tonks? She was dead as well. Her cousin Sirius? Dead. There was always Teddy Lupin… but Hermione wasn’t sure if Narcissa had been invited to meet him. 

All of these people… their history… the world between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy had been so easy to disregard up until now. The reality of it all settled heavily on her shoulders. The table had become quite sombre. 

As her mind reeled, she tried to pick a new topic of conversation. Anything. Anything would suffice. She would not let the war take a single thing more from her. Not when it had been over for so long. 

“Well, back on the topic of school…” she began, pulling out her cell phone. She flipped through the little pictures on the screen until she found the one she was looking for. A plump orange cat loafing on her sofa. “I still have my cat, Crookshanks. You might remember him, Draco.” 

He took the phone from her hands and squinted at the little photo on the screen. 

“That thing is still alive?” he asked. 

Hermione snatched her phone back from his grasp. “That thing is my best friend. And yes, he is.” She handed the phone over to Narcissa who held it daintily, like it might explode within her very grasp. “He’s part Kneazle. I think he might live forever. The Potters are watching him for me while I’m gone.” 

“He’s gorgeous ,” Narcissa told her, handing the phone back. The woman was smiling again, clearly grateful for the change of subject. 

Hermione decided there really was nothing to report back to Ginny. Narcissa Malfoy was entirely pleasant. A bit clueless, perhaps, about the effects of the war on others, but that was to be expected. It had taken its toll on everyone quite differently. She’d been in the middle of it, just like Hermione, but from a different perspective. 

The air in the cab ride home was a bit more tense than it had been on the way there, much to Hermione’s demise. She was absolutely not going to let this get between her and her chances of fucking Malfoy. He’d have to lighten up soon. 

He opened her door for her upon arrival and helped her out once more. 

In the elevator, Hermione confronted him. 

“There's something I wanted to tell you,” she said, catching his attention. “When you call me ‘darling’ or ‘love ,’ you know I know that you use them on your fans as well?” 

“And?” he prompted. 

Hermione exited at her floor but kept her hand over the open door so it wouldn’t close immediately. 

“I am not one of your fans.” 

“I know.” 

And the smile he gave her was sultry. Indecent. Positively devious. 

Just the way she liked it. 

Hermione found herself standing at side stage with Narcissa Malfoy as the Copenhagen show was underway. 

She watched her son with admiration, always clapping at the end of a song and smiling when the crowd reached its highest volumes. 

Hermione was just thinking about what a wonderful environment the ambience of a concert made for. That buzz in her veins, the heightened adrenaline. Not too bad for a place that so many people on this tour called their office. 

Her thoughts were cut short by the changing of tone in the set. Malfoy moved onto his slower songs of the night, as he always did a little more than halfway through. Narcissa motioned for Hermione to follow her, so she did. In the safety of the backstage hallways, the two women faced each other. 

“About yesterday, Hermione… I want to say I’m sorry.” The witch idly rubbed her hands; a nervous tick. “For everything that happened in my house. It’s unforgivable and I’ve tried to block it all out. I realise now how selfish that is. I’m sure it’s impossible for you to block out, and you’re the one it damaged most.” 

“It’s alright. I moved on a long time ago,” Hermione told her truthfully. “It’s always going to be hard to talk about, I think. But I know you were just trying to save your son. You weren’t the one who scarred me.” 

Narcissa took a deep breath and nodded. 

“I didn’t realise how he was treating you in school. I should have known. With his father’s beliefs... I know how horrible they can be. My parents believed them too. I never minded because they didn’t affect me.” She looked seconds away from tears. “So careless of me. Look where it led. I should have never raised him like that. Has he apologised to you as well?” 

“Not directly. But I know he’s not like that anymore.” 

“Shame on him. He should have done so the moment you stepped back into his life.”

“I don’t think direct apology is exactly his style.” 

“I’ll have to have a word with him.” 

“But, can I ask, Narcissa, why did you never reach out after everything?” Hermione asked. “Why are you only saying all this now?” 

“The same reason I moved to France,” she replied, the first tear escaping her eye. “I'd done enough damage. I didn’t think anyone wanted to hear from me anymore.” 

There were a lot of people to be mad at for stealing her youth. Lucius, Bellatrix, Voldemort, even Dumbledore . But not Narcissa. 

The war really had taken something from everyone. 

“Come on, let’s go watch your son’s big finale,” Hermione said, grabbing her hands and squeezing them. “It’s been lovely to have you around these past few days.” 

Draco was captivating, as usual. During the last few songs, he made his way down between the front row of fans and the stage. He touched all their outreached hands, making their nights, undoubtedly. At the end of the line, he stopped and put his fingers under a girl’s chin, lifting her face to his. They were two inches away from kissing. If Narcissa wasn’t standing directly beside her, Hermione would have started muttering hexes under her breath. 

Blasted heartthrob rockstar. 

The long-forgotten feeling of jealousy seeped into her bones. She watched the rest of the set with a straight face. 

When Malfoy exited the stage, he was coated in sweat, topless, and looking thoroughly pleased with himself. 

“How’d you like the show, Mother?” he asked, giving her a hug. Narcissa cringed against his slick skin, undoubtedly taking half of his sweat for herself. She cast a discreet cleansing charm on herself when he pulled away. “I’ll meet you outside to see you off.” 

Hermione was staring at him, half aroused by his current state, and half-irate from his little spectacle with that fan from moments before. He met her eyes and she didn’t budge. 

“Would you like a hug too, Granger?” 

She huffed and turned on her heel, storming away to the buses.

Chapter Text

Playlist

Hermione was ready to leave Copenhagen and her pursuit of Draco Malfoy behind. 

She paced between the bunks on the bus, waiting for Theo so she could complain his ear off. The show had been over for an hour already; usually he’d be in his bunk by now. It’s not like he had any clean-up duties to complete. 

They had exchanged cell phone numbers, but her last three text messages remained unanswered. 

Impatiently, she pulled open one of the curtains over the bus windows. What she’d expected, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps Theo walking this way, ready to save her from the anger she had  pent up inside? Or maybe even Narcissa once more, coming to tell her that she’d slapped some sense into her son?

Instead, she was met with the unpleasantly familiar sight of a bunch of young women standing behind a barricade and Malfoy speaking to them all one by one. He gave out hugs, autographs, and laughed along with them. Hermione watched with her eyes narrowed. He really just soaked up the attention like he couldn’t get enough. It was a smart business move, she supposed. It kept them coming back every time. Telling their friends, posting about it online… they kept the fame and the money rolling his way. 

After her talk with Narcissa and seeing all of the money she was putting into the wizarding community, Hermione couldn’t help but think that this was Malfoy’s way of taking back what the war took from him; kindness. 

He burst her little empathetic bubble as the fans began to dissipate, leaving just a few stragglers behind. When they got what they wanted – extra photos, a longer conversation, or even what seemed to be a longer, personal message along with his signature – they left. Only one girl remained. She was older than the rest of them and she hadn’t asked him for anything. 

Hermione wanted to gag as she watched the girl flirt with him, though she couldn’t hear what she was saying. She batted her long eyelashes at him and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear daintily. She was actively making herself smaller in his presence. And like a fish to bait, Malfoy gave in.

He put his arm around her and walked her coolly to the other bus, where Hermione lost sight of them. 

“Alright, we’re good to go,” the bus driver announced, starting the engine. 

“Do you know where the others are?” Hermione asked him, realising that not only was Theo not there, but she was the only one on the bus at all. 

“Sometimes they’ll hop on the other bus or catch a ride from some of the local venue workers,” he replied, shrugging. 

Typical. Theodore Nott was everywhere Hermione was, even when she was trying to seduce his best friend. Now, when she needed him, he’d abandoned her. 

The thought of Malfoy and that girl just didn’t sit right with her. The Golden Girl always got what she wanted. Even when half the Wizengamot was against her. She’d always gotten her way. On the edge of her hotel room bed, she flipped through TV channels, waiting for Theo to come put her out of her misery. 

But time ticked on, and there was no knock on her door. 

Where could he be?

Clearly, Malfoy was getting busy in their hotel room. Had he gone to see one of the other crew members instead? Or maybe something had happened, and he was with Malfoy after all. The thought was going to bother her until she knew the answer. 

Making a pit stop downstairs, she asked the front desk for the other hotel rooms in her party. Malfoy and Theo would be in the suite, of course. She headed back up to that floor and found herself staring at the hotel room door. After a second of hesitation, she knocked. 

It wasn’t long before the door opened, exposing a bored-looking Malfoy with an unbuttoned shirt and a cigarette sticking out of his mouth. 

“Hello, Granger,” he motioned for her to come inside. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Hermione took a quick look around the hotel room. The bathroom door was open and the light was off. Two beds sat seemingly untouched and a table with cushioned chairs sat in front of the window. The lights were dim and the TV off. 

“I’m looking for Theo,” she told him. 

“I assumed he was with you,” Malfoy said, taking a seat in one of the chairs. Between drags of his cigarette, he took sips from a beer bottle. 

“And I assumed you were with that girl,” Hermione replied, taking a seat on the bed closest to the windows. 

“She already left,” he told her. As quickly as she had sat down, she jumped up again. Had she been sitting where they – 

“Relax, Granger, we didn’t do anything.” 

“Really?” she asked, far too quickly. She tried to cover it up with some snark. “What…don’t tell me she didn’t like you?” 

“Quite the opposite,” Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I never get farther than kissing with these girls. They get too nervous and chicken out. It’s like they dream about this moment and when they get it, they can’t follow through.” 

Hermione sat back down on the bed, feeling pathetically relieved. 

“You have a reputation, you know,” she told him. “As a sex symbol of sorts. Everyone thinks you sleep with them.” 

He let out a dark chuckle. 

“I’m aware. I’m a rockstar, I’m expected to. And believe me, I’d love to be spending my nights getting off. But apparently, no one can handle it.” 

Well, they were on the same page, there. 

“So, why do you keep trying with them, then?” she asked. 

A cocky grin grew on his face. He was looking at her that way again; like he knew things about her that even she didn’t.

“Still love to ask questions, I see,” he said. He did think he knew her. “Honestly, it’s been a while. Sometimes I hope to get some… but this time I really just wanted to get your attention. I see the way you react when I look at anyone that’s not you. You’re sexy when you have that jealous look on your face. Much better than I’d imagined.” 

“Think about me, do you?” Hermione asked, as if her heart wasn’t pounding in her ears, the heat rising through her entire body. 

“I’ve been known to.” 

“Why don’t you do something about it, then?” 

Draco shrugged. 

“Can never tell with you, Granger. You act like you hate me.” 

“It’s not acting. I don’t hate you. But – ” 

“You’re not a… fan ?” 

“Exactly,” she agreed. 

He seemed pleased with this answer, a satisfied smile growing on his face..

He took a drag of his cigarette, looking at her with hungry eyes. She felt worlds away on the bed, but couldn’t bring her feet to move by their own accord. Wouldn’t he just come over and undress her already? 

“Come here,” he ordered. “Would you like a beer? Or a cigarette?” 

“I’ll take both.” The idea of an alcohol buzz pushed her forward. She made her way over to the table and chairs in front of the window. When she tried to sit down across from him, Malfoy put his feet up in the empty chair. He looked at her beneath heavy lids, the faintest trace of a smirk on his face. 

Fine. She could play too. 

Hermione looked him dead in the eyes as she lifted her leg up and over his, settling her left knee beside his thigh. Her right leg followed suit, squeezing his legs between hers. Then she lowered herself down onto him; straddling him. 

He didn’t break their eye contact as he took a sip of his beer and offered it to her. She took her own sip before placing it down on the table. Then Malfoy took a drag of the cigarette before offering that to Hermione, too. The cigarette burned her throat, matching the feeling that was travelling up and down her skin at the moment. His hand brushed hers as he took it back. 

“So,” she began. “Why did you hire me for the rest of this tour, then? Was it to make amends, or to torment me like old times?”

She pushed her hips firmly into his, feeling that unmistakable hardening grow beneath his trousers. 

She finally had him. 

Reaching down, Hermione dragged a finger over his bulge. “Or was it your plan to fuck me all along?” 

Malfoy shifted, leaning over the table to put his cigarette out in the ashtray. When he turned back, he grabbed her by the hips. 

“How about all of the above?” he replied, and Hermione didn’t skip a beat. 

“Well, I think you’re a little late on that last one, aren’t you?” 

Draco’s eyes fluttered down to look at her lips and it took all of the self restraint she could muster to not stick her tongue down his throat. 

“I didn’t think you were the type. I was hoping I could convince you… show you something new… but you seem pretty game already.” 

“I told you. You know nothing about me, Draco Malfoy,” she whispered, reaching out and placing her index finger on his bottom lip. She dragged it down until it bounced back into place. “But I’m sure that’s hard  to get through that cocky little head of yours.” 

“You gonna chicken out on me?” he asked, his breath hot against her skin. 

“No way,” she breathed, grabbing the sides of his face and planting her lips on his. 

Immediately, they were battling with each other. Hard, unforgiving kisses, making up for lost time. Every pull of his lips was a penalty for how he’d treated her growing up. Every rake of her fingers against his scalp was revenge for all the snarky comments he’d ever directed towards her. He tasted like beer and nicotine, but a little like strawberries, too. They were grabbing each other roughly, Malfoy’s calloused hands remorseless on Hermione’s exposed back. Before they could get too crazy, she pulled away. 

“This is the last time I want to find you with another girl’s taste on your lips,” she said against his mouth breathily. “You need something, you come to me.” 

Malfoy laughed in a low tone, sending a shiver down her spine. 

“Still bossy, as well, then.” 

He pulled her back in quickly, making her lose her balance. She was completely up against him now, under his control. She flicked her tongue out against his lips to ask for entry. He let her in immediately, allowing her to explore every nook of his hot mouth, lapping him up like the last bit of water in the desert. Then he fought back, his tongue pushing hers back into her mouth. Something hard and cold startled her and she stopped abruptly. Once more, she pulled away to look at him. 

“Your tongue is pierced too?” she asked, breathless. 

He stuck his tongue out to reveal a little silver ball pierced right through the middle of it. Hermione could have melted on the spot. 

“Is there a problem?” He asked. 

“Yes,” she seethed, speaking through her teeth. “It’s not on my fucking clit.” 

Malfoy responded with a growl, his hands finding her hips again, digging his fingernails in. Then his tongue was in her mouth and he was sucking, biting, kissing her desperately. He forced her to roll her hips, his hardness hitting that sweet spot between his legs. She thanked all the gods, muggle and magical, that she had decided to put on a skirt again that morning. He wasn’t gentle; her knickers got caught on his trousers as he rocked her hard and fast. Hermione let out a whimper. She was almost positive she could finish from this alone. 

But she wanted more. She began to undo his belt and pull down his fly. Sliding out of his lap, she found herself on her knees between his legs. She yanked his trousers and pants down, setting his cock free. It was even larger than when she’d seen it fresh out of the shower. Another whine escaped the back of her throat. 

“You want it?” she asked. “From me?” 

“Fucking yes, Granger,” he panted. 

She took one long lick from base to tip, not taking her eyes off of him. “It’s Hermione.” 

Slowly, she slipped his tip into her mouth and began to bob her head lower and lower down his cock. His piercing hit the roof of her mouth, but she didn’t mind the extra sensation. When he reached the back of her throat, she could barely stay there for more than a second. She’d never gagged on a dick before. There had been no need; they had never been this big. 

Her head moved up and down slowly, as she wanted to take her time to pleasure every inch of him. His hands found her hair, taking gentle fistfuls of it. She snaked her tongue around him and sucked hard with each pass. She tried to increase her speed, but it was hard with his size. There was no way she could blow him comfortably. Luckily, comfort wasn’t exactly what she was looking for at the moment. After a while, she pulled away with a pop. 

“Go ahead. Use me,” she told him. “I know you want to.” 

Placing her lips around him again, she waited, looking at him expectantly. He hesitated, but began to push her head up and down with a tighter grip in her hair. They kept eye contact as he sped the motion up, beginning to buck his hip upwards in the chair as well. 

Soon, his tip was hitting the back of her throat repeatedly, saliva escaping down his length from the corners of her mouth. He fucked her face relentlessly, until she couldn’t look at him anymore. She clenched her eyes shut as she tried not to gag, her hands finding his thighs for support. The sounds protruding from her throat were unbelievably filthy and Malfoy’s breath started to hitch in the midst of his winded moans. 

“Fuck, Hermione, you’re taking so much of it in that pretty little mouth,” he said, voice strained. 

Her scalp burned from where he was pulling her hair, her throat ached from where his cock was slamming into it repeatedly, but what she felt most clearly was the clenching of her own cunt, begging for some relief from its frustration. 

Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and as she felt the surge of cum make its way up to his tip, she looked at him once more. With his lips parted, he groaned as he came, his hips jerking upwards erratically. 

She disconnected them with a loud gasp, choking on the remnants of cum that hadn’t quite made it down her throat. Her breaths were heavy as she tried to restore oxygen in place of where he had just been. 

Malfoy’s hand reached out and cupped the side of her face. He wiped a tear away with his thumb. 

“Good girl,” he said quietly, fueling the wetness that was sogging up her knickers. “I think you’ve earned a turn.” 

He stood, helping her up, before scooping her off the ground with hands beneath her arse. He kissed her sloppily, taking two short steps before throwing her onto her back on the bed. He was manhandling her and she fucking loved it. 

She watched as he licked a clean line up her thigh and buried his head under her skirt when he got there. There was a nipping at her hip bone and when he reappeared, he had her knickers between his teeth, pulling them down to her knees. Her cunt clenched again. 

Malfoy discarded her knickers the rest of the way off her body and flipped her skirt upward for better access. 

“It’s like a fucking waterfall down here,” he said, and she could hear the stupid grin on his face. “Want me that bad?” 

“Shut up , Malfoy.” 

He hummed in response, planting kisses so far up her thigh she wanted to sob. So close. He was so close to giving her some relief. Then he kissed her right up her slit, but his tongue still made no appearance. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked teasingly. 

There was no point in even fighting back. She was absolutely rife with desire and felt like she wouldn’t last another second without his tongue. She wriggled on the bed, pushing closer to his mouth.

“ Please, Draco. Please,” she begged, her voice coming out as a thin whine. 

“So polite,” he purred. 

Finally, in one moment of absolute ecstasy, his tongue slid right into her core, bringing along with it a cold pang from his piercing. Hermione let out a demonic moan. Malfoy chuckled directly into her cunt. She grabbed fistfuls of his hair, pulling hard. 

That got him going. He moved his tongue up and down her slit, following with long, opened mouth kisses, sucking on her bundle of nerves. He used his tongue masterfully, just like he had on his guitar. He worked his way through her folds and lapped up every inch of her like he couldn’t get enough. He was even making sounds like he was experiencing the best meal he’d ever had. She’d never had a man go down on her and enjoy it so much. He rested his piercing on her clit and started to move his tongue more erratically and Hermione let herself go slack. 

“Oh, fuck, just like that,” she slurred. 

He switched between working her clit and sucking on it, being sure not to leave the rest of her core unattended to. After a few moments, he pulled away. She met his eyes. 

“You can use me too,” he told her, and she could see her arousal dripping down his chin. 

When he went back down, she kept their eye contact. Just as he had, she used his hair to control him. When she had him bobbing at a good speed she began to rock her hips, rubbing herself against his face. Not only did his tongue and piercing get to play with her clit, now his nose did too. 

Draco’s eyes rolled back into his skull. It seemed he liked being her little plaything. 

“ Oh my God,” she gasped, feeling her insides twist together. Just a few moments more and she’d be coming harder than she’d ever come in her life. Her cunt clenched aggressively and she let out a high-pitched moan. “Draco. I’m gonna – ” 

The lights turned on, and suddenly she was empty. Draco had retracted himself from her, leaving her cold and right on the edge. 

“ Mother of fucking God!” 

Hermione quickly pushed her skirt down and sat up. Behind her, Theo was in the entryway of the hotel room, shielding his eyes and backing up against the wall. 

“I’m so sorry, miss. Draco , I thought you said she was gone.” 

Draco exhaled heavily out of his nose. He didn’t answer Theo, but instead took the time to put away his cock that had still been out the whole time. Hermione sat in discomfort and emptiness from her cheated orgasm.

“I’ll just be outside,” Theo said, stumbling towards the door. 

When he was gone, Hermione turned back to Draco. 

“So, we’re done?” she asked. 

Malfoy just looked at her and shrugged, getting up from his position on the floor. How nonchalant . Of course, why would he care? He had gotten to finish, after all. 

She groaned and began to collect herself – and her soaking knickers. She stormed out the door and let it slam behind her. 

“Great timing, Theo,” she seethed, not stopping to chat. “ Goodnight.” 

“Hermione?” he asked, the surprise ripe in his voice. “What the fuck is going on?” 

She didn’t bother answering. Back in her hotel room, she had an unseen message from him. 

Sorry, got caught up with some of the guys. On my way back. You still awake?

So, that was settled. She would simply go nowhere without her cell phone ever again. 

Hermione was packing her things in the morning when she heard from Theo again. 

He knocked on the door and she let him in before dipping into the bathroom and collecting her little shampoo and conditioner bottles. 

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Theo said. “We have a flight to catch.” 

“I drank a little too much whiskey that one night, Theodore,” she responded. “I can wake up on my own.” 

Theo whistled and sat down on her bed. 

“You’re not upset with me, are you?” 

“Not with you. Just in general.” 

“Well, I think I have some news that will cheer you up,” he began. “We’re switching hotel rooms in Warsaw.” 

Hermione stopped what she was doing and stared at Theo with the most malicious look she could muster. 

“Okay, you’re not happy about that then…why?” 

“Sharing a room with Malfoy? That’s a little too intimate, don’t you think? I can’t do that,” she sighed. 

“ Too intimate?” Theo questioned. “And what exactly were you doing last night? You did this to yourself, Granger.” 

Hermione began throwing things into her suitcase angrily. 

“We gave each other head. And he didn’t even let me finish,” she told him. “I’m not moving in with the guy.” 

“Well, I need a place to sleep, for starters, and I will not be walking in on that again. And of course he didn’t let you finish. I walked in! Are you crazy?” 

“I mean, you left, didn’t you?” She slammed her suitcase closed and zipped it up. “You could’ve watched as well, I don’t mind.” 

Theo stared at her, stunned, before breaking into a laugh. 

“Little Hermione Granger,” he mused. “You’ve surprised me. I thought Draco’s charms would ricochet right off you.” 

“And do you know a man who’s pierced in the two places it matters most?” she looked at him expectantly, arms akimbo. 

Theo looked dumbfounded. He opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. 

“I really can’t argue with you there,” he said eventually. “I get it. When we first started touring, Draco and I had this saying. ‘What happens on tour, stays on tour.’” 

Theo smiled in a way that was so mischievous, Hermione almost asked him what exactly happened that ‘ stayed on tour,’  but in the end, she decided she didn’t know Theo well enough to ask something so personal. Even if he had seen her half-naked…by accident.. 

“Anyway, it’s already decided,” he continued. “You’ll room with him and I’ll finally get my own room.” 

“ Fine ,” Hermione bit out. She placed her suitcase on the floor and started towards the door. “His blood is on your hands if I kill him in his sleep.” 

“Understandable.” 

The plane ride to Warsaw was short and anything but relaxing. Hermione sat at the window again, with Theo to her left. Somehow, Jonah ended up in the aisle seat. Every few minutes, he’d lean over and voice his concerns about the equipment and buses having a twelve hour drive from Copenhagen to Warsaw. They left after dropping everyone off at the hotel, so they should have been well on their way, but after the last late fiasco, Jonah just couldn’t sit still. 

“We might have to cancel the show.” 

“Do you realise how quickly we’ll have to set the stage up?” 

“I have a feeling someone’s gonna be in the bus parking spot already.” 

“Does anyone even live in Warsaw, anyway?” 

He’d cut Theo and Hermione off mid-sentence while they were talking amongst each other. He’d interrupt Theo’s movie and startle him. Finally, Hermione was sick of it. 

“I’m sorry, but weren’t you a part of planning this tour?” she asked. 

“I didn’t route it, I just approved it!” Jonah replied. “I didn’t look at the dates closely enough. I gave them too much credit – who’d be so stupid to book these shows with no day in between?” 

That earned her a lecture about how tours are routed and the hierarchy of who gets a say in when and where they play. For lack of a better word, the rest of her flight was spent as the victim of mansplaining. They seriously could not land fast enough. 

It was straight to the arena for everyone, which meant taking a shower in one of the venue’s amenities, which Hermione came to learn was a privilege. The crew members and bandmates had no time to spare if they wanted to be able to soundcheck before the show. 

Even Theo was roped into helping, but he managed to talk his way into being on merch duty, where he could organise the boxes and clothes out of sight. Which, of course, meant using his wand. 

“Would it kill you to fold some t-shirts?” Hermione asked him disappointedly. 

“It might,” he shrugged. “I’ll see you later, Granger.” 

Truth be told, she was happy to be free from unloading duties herself, and planned to keep it that way. She found a lounge in the backstage area and hunkered down there. This time, she knocked on the bathroom door beforehand. No answer. 

With all of her photos now uploaded onto her computer, she got to editing. The crowd shots were her favourite. In some of them, she’d gotten the perfect angle; almost eye-level with how she saw the crowd. A few phones and hands in the air blurred in the foreground with Malfoy right in the middle, like a proper rockstar in front of his adoring audience. 

When she thought of it like that, the editing was easy. There were minimal distractions and she ended up with some of her favourite photos she’d ever taken. The other shows Cosmopolitan had sent her to work were lower energy. There had been some folk shows, some jazz bands, and she’d even worked an Alicia Keys concert, which had a very mellow, community-based vibe to it. 

At Malfoy’s shows, the energy was one-hundred and ten percent at all times. The shrill guitars, deep bass that you could feel in your chest, and his captivating voice that often broke out into classic rock screaming had fans moving non-stop. They screamed like they were giving their absolute all into it. It was madness, elation, and intoxication. It was catharsis. 

Hermione felt quite proud of herself, feeling like she’d captured all of those feelings in the pictures she took. She edited them to more closely match what it was like to experience such a spectacle in person. When she went back to working at the Ministry every day, she feared she’d miss it. Or worse, the memories would start to fade and all she’d know again were the cold walls of a Wizarding government she was still trying to change. 

But then she reached the picture. The one she’d gotten of him onstage after he had licked his guitar like a deviant. 

And it was perfect. 

The composition, the lighting, the background… and him. 

The light hit him just right, bouncing off of his pale skin even under all of the tattoos. His face was pure ecstasy, like there was no better place for him to be than on that stage. The neck of his guitar rested lazily in one hand, making it look like playing was the easiest thing he’d ever done. He was looking into the camera with sultry eyes behind loose blonde locks of hair, a sea of fans spread out behind him like loyal followers. He looked like a god. A sex god. 

And Hermione remembered what those eyes looked like peering up at her from between her legs. 

When he got on stage every night, he had the attention of thousands and thousands of people, but rarely gave his own to anyone else. But she knew what it was like. Hermione knew what it was like to have his attention. He was aggressive, raw, and detail-oriented. 

Hermione’s stomach flipped looking at the picture. Trying to push it out of her mind as fast as she could, she finalised the edits and sent a zip file to Evelyn’s email. 

In less than ten minutes, the woman was calling her. 

“Hello?” 

Evelyn one again responded with a high-pitched scream. 

“Granger, these photos are incredible! You were born for this, girl,” she told her. “Tell me, how's it going? Are they treating you well? Is he nice?” 

“Um, yeah… it’s great! Everyone’s been very welcoming. Draco is, uh… busy a lot. But he’s been… nice… as well,” Hermione wanted to smack herself on the head for how unconvincing she sounded. 

Evelyn didn’t seem to notice; she clearly had other things on her mind. 

“This picture that you took from the stage – I want to propose it as our next UK cover photo,” she said. “Would you be able to ask him if that’s okay?” 

“I could…ask,” she responded half-heartedly. She’d been quite happy ignoring Malfoy since last night, thank you very much. Now she’d have to feed his ego yet again by asking him if they can put him on the cover?

“Amazing! Alright, honey, I’ll let you go, I have no idea what timezone you’re in,” Evelyn said, not giving Hermione a chance to respond before her next remark. “Wow, you are so much stronger than me. I’d fall in love with him! Okay, talk to you soon.” 

The phone was still at Hermione’s ear when she heard the crack of Evelyn closing hers. 

“Don’t need to worry about that,” she said under her breath. If only her boss knew the history between them and how absolutely ironic it was that she’d ended up here. 

The time on her phone indicated that there was just an hour or so until they’d start letting fans in. Now was the perfect chance for her to drop her hefty laptop bag off in the bus before getting caught up in the sea of fans. She collected her things and made her way to the back exit. 

The place was empty as everyone else was undoubtedly running around to make things perfect at the very last minute. 

But then he turned the corner. At the far end of the hallway, Malfoy appeared with a muggle cell phone in his hand. He looked up when he heard Hermione’s boots clacking against the floor. 

She looked pointedly away from him, keeping her gaze straight ahead to the exit. Perhaps it was immature to give him the cold shoulder, but apparently, that’s the level she stooped to for him. 

Hermione thought she’d made it too, as she began to pass him and he didn’t say a word. But before she could be relieved, his hand gripped hard around her arm as he tugged her abruptly into a closet of some sort. 

There were two concert equipment boxes inside, but they didn’t belong to their crew; all of Malfoy’s boxes were labelled with his name. These must have been spare ones from the venue. The closet contained other miscellaneous equipment including pedals, loose microphones, and even some strobe lights. 

She ripped her arm out of Malfoy’s grasp, but he put his hands on her again, this time more gently, pulling down the thin straps of her dress to kiss her softly on the shoulder. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he said in a low tone. 

“I’m sure you have,” Hermione responded,  stiff as a board. Now he wanted to pleasure her? 

Draco lifted his head quickly to meet her eyes. 

“You’re mad at me,” he realised. “What did I do?” 

“It’s what you didn’t do,” she told him. 

He chuckled darkly. 

“Should I have finished you off with Theo right outside the door?”

“Yes.” 

Draco let out a soft hum, leaning back in to kiss her neck up and down. She wouldn’t be able to resist much longer; he was reaching her sweet spot, as if he already knew where it was. 

“You’re gonna kill me, Granger,” he said against her skin, sending goosebumps down her arm. “You’re much freakier than I’d imagined. I guess I do know less than I thought.” 

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready or something?” Her voice was growing shaky as his hand made its way down to her breast. He palmed it through her top, her nipple hardening much more quickly than she’d like. Her body was betraying her. Or serving her well, perhaps. 

“Yes,” he responded. He looked up at her with a small grin before bringing their lips together. 

He pushed her backwards in the small closet, her bum hitting the equipment box behind her. She held onto the edges of it with her hands and melted into the kiss. He grabbed her face with both of his palms and was sucking on her lips like he was trying to devour her. His body pushed into her so hard she was losing her balance, even pressed between him and the box. She reached out and caught his hips for support, feeling his massive hard-on against her thigh. 

“I really struck gold with you,” he panted between kisses. One of his hands went down between them and found the wetness between her legs. He rubbed it through the fabric of her dress. “And this delicious little cunt.” 

Hermione gasped at the sensation. As always, she only had knickers on underneath, and they were thin. She could feel the ridges of his fingers clearly. 

“I like it when you wear these little dresses,” he breathed, hiking it upwards to expose her bottom half. 

“I’ll never wear one again,” she said, but the effect was perhaps a little lost in the weakness of her voice. 

He smiled greedily before spinning her around and roughly pushing her front-half down onto the equipment box. Hermione groaned at the impact. He slipped her knickers down and let them fall to her feet. 

“ Shh , baby girl, I only want to take care of you,” he said quietly. Hermione melted, quite pathetically, at his words. She let her eyes close as she arched her arse to give him a better angle. His fingers played along her clit before he dipped one inside of her. “You know, I’m aware that you know a lot of little celebrities in the Wizarding World.” 

A second finger.  

“How useless,” he mused. “Expendable.” 

A third finger. 

“I’m a real celebrity,” he continued. “Where it matters. A celebrity to the majority of this world.” 

His fingers pumped inside her, but it wasn’t enough. She knew that he’d fill her more than this. 

“I want to know what you think…when you have a real celebrity inside you.” 

He removed his fingers and Hermione whimpered at the loss. Then there was the sound of a belt being undone and a zipper being opened. 

“You – are so – full of yourself,” she stuttered out, feeling him line himself up at her  entrance. 

He slid his tip in. Hermione could feel the ends of his piercing hit her walls, dragging along them smoothly. It was a very new, odd sensation, but she welcomed it fully. 

“Now you are too, baby,” he leaned over her to whisper in her ear. 

He gave gentle thrusts, pushing his full length into her a little at a time. Every time she thought he’d bottom out, it just kept coming. There was so much of him and he was stretching her out with each pass; for a moment, she worried he wouldn’t fit all the way. 

But his hips finally met her arse and Draco let out a long moan of satisfaction. 

“ Fuck , you have – an annoyingly large cock,” she gasped. 

She had never felt so full before; like she was overflowing. Her cunt stretched to accommodate him, struggling to adapt to this new visitor. 

“But do you like it?” Draco pouted with mock insecurity. 

Insufferable git. He already knew her answer. 

“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth, looking back to throw him a scowl. 

“Thought so,” he smirked. 

Then, with no regard for starting off slow, he began thrusting like a madman, causing a string of whines and moans to escape her involuntarily. He meant for this to be a quickie.

“Jesus – Christ – Draco,” she nearly sobbed. 

The equipment box rocked back and forth with them in the confined little space and Hermione struggled to find anything to brace herself on. She grabbed erratically at the surface of the box, her nails simply sliding along it and failing to steady her. 

He rammed into her from behind unforgivingly, the sounds of their bodies clapping together echoing loudly against the walls. She reached her arm out behind her to grab ahold of him but he quickly pinned it to her back. His other hand grabbed a fist of her hair and tugged her head up. Hermione yelped. 

“Hands to yourself, Granger,” he demanded. 

The length of his cock pumped inside her relentlessly and she was beginning to feel the effects of his piercing against that sensitive spot deep inside her. It was like scratching an itch she’d never been able to reach before. 

He was using her like a fuck toy. And there was nothing she could do but take it. 

Her mouth hung open but even her moans struggled to come out. As the arousal consuming her body reached its peak, her eyes rolled backwards and she was beginning to see stars. 

“Oh my God, you better not fucking stop, Draco Malfoy,” her words came out quickly, stringing together as one. 

His thrusts became sloppy; her hips digging into the cold metal lining of the box she was bent over. 

The tightening in her abdomen was released as the orgasm wracked through her, her vision going white. A raspy scream escaped her throat before she could stop it. 

“Oh, fuck yes, I love that,” he said, breathless behind her. “Fucking scream for me, baby.”
 

A few pumps later and he came too, pushing her forcefully into the box. She’d definitely have bruises on her hips in the morning. The moan he let out was absolutely guttural. 

Hermione stayed there for a second, catching her breath and trying to regain control of her senses. She felt the mess in between her legs; his cum dripping down her thigh. Regardless, she felt him reach down and pull her knickers up before covering her with the skirt of her dress.

She turned around to find him with his chest heaving, running a hand through his hair. He pulled his trousers back up and smiled. 

“We’ll do it the right way later,” he said. “In our hotel room.” 

“Maybe you’ll learn to properly undress me next time,” she replied. 

His smile grew wider. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Then he was gone. He had left her there, alone, absolutely dripping in some random tech closet. 

At least he had pulled her knickers back up.

A few cleaning spells later, Hermione felt confident enough to join the rest of the crew towards the front of the backstage area. The show had started, so the lights were dim, just in case she had missed any evidence of their little rendezvous. 

She smiled at Theo as she joined his side for the opening band. 

During Draco’s set, she grabbed her camera and headed into the photo pit to grab a few up-close shots that Evelyn might want to include in the cover story. 

He had already taken his shirt off, and Hermione shook her head at the fact that she hadn’t had his bare, gorgeous abs on top of her yet. 

“Ladies and gentleman,” he said into the mic. “Give it up for Elijah!” 

Elijah, apparently, was the name of the other guitar player in the band. He was on the shorter side and had dreadlocks that covered his face as he looked down and played. He broke into one of the most intense guitar solos of the night, facing Draco and moving his head as he played. 

Draco sank to his knees in front of Elijah and motioned with his hands for him to come closer. It was obscene, the way he reacted too the guitar solo, leaning backwards and thrusting his hips forward like he was literally fucking the music. 

Well, that decided what Hermione wanted to do with him tonight. 

Chapter Text

Playlist

After the Warsaw show, Hermione found herself in her bus bunk, looking across the aisle at Theo in his. 

She noticed that he was shaking his leg and kept looking towards the front of the bus periodically. 

“Something wrong?” she asked. 

“What? No,” he answered quickly. Yes, very convincing. “You got any plans tonight? Getting busy?” 

He gave her a cheeky smile and raised his eyebrows twice. Hermione gave him a very unamused look. 

“Being surrounded by men is getting old, fast,” she sighed. 

“Oh, come on, Granger. I’m just living vicariously through you.” 

“I won’t ask what you mean by that,” she shook her head. “Do you have any idea if we’ll have free time in Cologne? I’ll positively riot if I don’t see the cathedral.” 

Theo shrugged. “I always have free time, so I wouldn’t know,” he told her. “But I think I’ll pass on some boring old cathedral.” 

“I really had higher hopes for you based on your school marks,” Hermione frowned. “Do enlighten me, what will you be doing instead?” 

“It’s Germany! Drinking beer, eating schnitzel, whatever.” 

“By yourself?” 

He gave her that impish little smile again. In many ways, Theodore Nott was like a little folkish sprite; always up to God-knows-what. 

“I always find someone,” he said confidently. 

“Fine. But you better not start ditching me now. Just because- – ” 

“Because you’re fucking my best friend?” Theo finished off for her. 

Hermione grabbed the nearest object – a book –  and chucked it at him. 

“Will you keep your voice down ?” 

Theo rolled his eyes. 

“Collin isn’t even here and Tades is dead asleep,” he said, stretching his long leg out in front of him and kicking the side of Tades’ bunk which was above Hermione’s head. “Besides, you said it yourself. Most coveted dick in rock and roll. You should be proud.” 

“Whatever,” Hermione brushed him off. 

She took to looking out the windows, catching glimpses of some of the fans that were meeting with Malfoy.. She was too low down in her bunk to see exactly what was going on, but she saw some smiling faces and cell phones up in the air every now and then. Hermione idly wondered how many muggle photos of Malfoy there must be out there.

Probably more than the combined total of hers from her entire childhood. It was an odd thought, and one that further fortified the idea that she was living in some sort of alternate timeline. 

Theo gasped, grabbing her attention. He had opened her book and was reading intently. 

“Give me that!” she demanded, realising which book she had thrown at him. 

“Is this what you do with Draco?” he asked, leaning away from her with excited eyes. He finished reading whatever chapter,before tossing it back to her. 

“Ginny warned me that Malfoy might make fun of me for my book choices,” she said. “Can’t wait to tell her it was actually you .” 

“Ginny Weasley?” Theo perked up. “Any of her brothers single? Do they hate me?” 

“I’ll ask around,” she said playfully, earning her another smile. 

“Erm – not Ron,” he added, his smile faltering quickly.

Then, the two of them broke into laughter so loud that Tades stirred in his bunk. 

Hermione couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when the tour was over. Would she keep in touch with Theo? Would they become strangers again just as easily as they’d become friends?

She decided it was best not to think about it at the moment. 

What happens on tour stays on tour.  

Perhaps that would be her new mantra. 

Malfoy’s bus had beaten theirs to the hotel, and he stood waiting in the lobby for Hermione to join him. Their two room keys swung indelicately from his hands. 

He was freshly showered with still-damp hair,  adorned in one of his very own tour t-shirts. 

“You know, you look like an idiot wearing your own face on your shirt,” she told him, leading the way to the elevator. 

“Would you like to take it off me, darling?” he asked with a sly grin as the elevator started moving. 

“You two are so cute !” Theo exclaimed, far too dramatically for anyone’s liking. Hermione and Draco both shot him a dirty look. 

He got off one  floor below, turning to make one last remark before the elevator doors closed. 

“Remember to wrap it, Draco.” 

“Don’t wrap it,” Hermione said quickly when he was gone. They were both staring ahead at the elevator doors.

“Didn’t plan to.” 

Their hotel room wasn’t quite as big as the last one, but it still came along with that feeling of importance that suites usually allowed for. Hermione’s parents had always gotten suites on their family vacations. Back then, she’d been so small,they had felt like the biggest rooms in the world. 

There was the looming matter of the ‘ two bed ’ situation,  but with the way Malfoy had wrapped his arms around her from behind and was kissing her neck, she quickly dismissed it.

“You still have time for me after all those fans you just met?” she asked as he massaged her breasts and sucked on the pulse point below her jawline. 

“None of them would take my cock like you do, honey,” he whispered directly into her ear before nipping on the lobe. 

Hermione grinned and hummed. He spun her around and began kissing her on the lips carefully, like there was something delicate inside he was looking for. His hands made their way down to her arse, where he decided to keep them.. 

He smelled so fucking good. Like cedarwood soap and some sort of citrusy shampoo. The smell alone made something deep in her stomach twist. Her tongue shot out and demanded entry into his mouth. 

“It’s not the fans I’m worried about, anyway,” she said after pulling away; teasing him. His eyes opened and followed her mouth as she leaned back. They were filled with pure lust. “I think it’s your bandmate’s guitar I should be jealous of.” 

“Hm?” he asked half-heartedly, catching her lips again. 

Hermione had to push on his chest in order to disconnect them again. 

“I saw the way you were worshipping it on stage,” she told him, “On your knees.” 

He met her eyes and smirked at her so darkly, her breath caught. Then he was unzipping the back of her dress and pulling it over her head. She could barely get his forsaken t-shirt off his body before he was unhooking her bra and tossing across the room. He groaned deeply upon seeing her breasts, immediately diving forward and taking one in his mouth. His eyes looked up at her as he sucked on her nipple, making her give a little yelp.. 

Draco planted kisses down her sternum, going lower and lower until he reached the top of her knickers. He pulled those down with ease and continued kissing her until his lips were right over her slit, sending shockwaves through her body. Hermione stumbled backwards against the wall to steady herself and Draco followed, crawling on his hands and knees . 

He wasted no time, picking up one of her legs and throwing it over his shoulder. His pierced tongue darted out before he buried the majority of his face in her cunt. Hermione’s head dropped back, hitting the wall. 

The feeling was much more powerful at this angle, as all Hermione needed to do was push downward to feel that cold piece of metal on her clit, digging in with a much-welcomed fervour. 

He plunged three fingers inside her at once, eliciting a sinful moan that reverberated through the empty room. Her hands found his hair, pulling his head back just enough so she could see his striking grey eyes, half-lidded in bliss. 

“So good,” she breathed, closing her eyes. She could float away right now for all she cared. What more was there to seek out after getting the best head of your life? 

“I want to fucking drink you,” Draco said right into her cunt, makingher shiver. 

Then he shook his head, moving her clit in a new way that made her breath hitch. The feeling of his fingers pumping inside her,  of his head between her thighs, that sultry look on his face… 

He was sucking on her clit like he was going to swallow it for himself. The blood left her head, pooling low in her stomach, making her see stars. 

“ Oh my god ,” she gasped. As the burning sensation spread throughout her entire body, she came apart with one strong buck of her hips into his face. Her next moan was embarrassingly high-pitched. 

“ Fuck!”

Her legs shook as he removed his fingers, giving her clit one last, overly-sensitive lick. On his feet, he quickly discarded his trousers and pants, kicking them off with such desperation, she knew she was about to let him do whatever he wanted to her. He grabbed her by the arse again and lifted her up. Her legs wrapped around his middle; her wet centre rubbing on his firm abdomen. 

There was no time to anticipate it  – Hermione was gasping for air and clawing at his back as he lowered her onto his cock – and it was a long ride down. Like this, she could feel his entire length inside her, stretching her from every angle. 

He began to bounce her slowly, and Hermione groaned out a long affirmative as she buried her head into the crook of his neck. There, she lazily licked and bit his skin. He lifted her with such ease, while the rings on his fingers dug into the skin of her arse with titillating pain.

“How do you like it, baby?” he asked softly. “How should I fuck you?” 

Hermione needed to concentrate in order to form words. She let her body manifest them for her.

“Rough. Fuck me like –” she caught herself before she said it. Would he make fun of her? No– he was literally already inside her. What happens on tour stays on tour. She took a deep breath to brace herself. “ – like I’ve been a bad girl.” 

He chuckled, but not at her. It was an evil sort of laugh. He nipped at her ear again, scraping his teeth along the lobe. 

“I should have known,” he said quietly. “Spend your life being praised… you want to be talked down to, don’t you? That won’t be hard for me. You have such a rude mouth. After all these years, you still think you’re so much better than me.”

With her legs around his abdomen, she had absolutely no say in what he was doing to her. Her fingers laced through the hairs at the nape of his neck as he forced her to ride him as quickly as possible. Her cunt clenched desperately, trying to keep up with his pace. 

“Fuck, Malfoy,” she cried. “You’re stretching me out. I don’t– I can’t–” 

“Asking me to stop, Granger?” he asked in her ear. 

“No! Please, no,” she begged, clawing at his back relentlessly. She took to simply moaning directly into his skin, biting down when he hit her g-spot just right. 

“You hate me so much during the day, don’t you?” 

Then he was walking her– still actively guiding her up and down his cock– over to one of the beds, where he threw her down, disconnecting them. 

Hermione whined at the sudden emptiness, but Draco was quick to crawl on top of her and tease her entrance with the arousal pooling at his tip.

“But then I have you like this… opening your legs for me like a little slut. Begging to be fucked.” 

He pulled her hips forward, pressing inside her once more. “So mean to me even though I fuck you so nice.”

He began with slow,powerful thrusts, leaning over to kiss her lower stomach, her ribcage, and her breasts. He lingered there for a while, taking her nipples in his mouth and sucking until she groaned. 

“So fucking sexy. Unbelievable,” he muttered into her skin. “I want to bite every inch of you so you can never forget that I had you. Let me hear those pitiful little moans. Let me hear how much you like me like this. You like me inside of you.” 

She melted under his words. She’d always fight back during the day; She’d always win. 

But here, taking his cock, pinned beneath him, she relished in both being praised and belittled alike. 

Once his lips found her neck, he gave hard bites that made her cry out and quickened his pace. The thought of how much glamouring she’d have to do in the morning flickered across her mind, but the sensation of his teeth in her neck pushed it to the background. 

His forehead rested on hers and she thought the way the silver chain around his neck swung in her face was one of the most erotic things she had ever seen in her life. He was reaching the tempo he’d fucked her in the closet,and Hermione let out a string of unintelligible moans at his roughness. 

One of his hands came up to her face, squeezing the sides of her cheeks to force her jaw open. He let a string of spit from his mouth fall directly into hers, causing her eyes to roll back into her head. 

That was new. She hadn’t known she’d liked that before. 

But then his hand was around her throat, pressing the sides in with calloused fingers.

“This okay?” he asked quickly. 

“ God, yes ,” she moaned, grabbing onto his arm with both of her hands to encourage him to squeeze a little harder. He pushed her into the mattress, taking the wind out of her. 

His thrusts increased to an unholy speed, shaking the entire bed. Her cunt was twitching around him and suddenly, she realised she was going to come again.  

She never had more than one orgasm. 

“You’re tight as fuck, Hermione,” he said, his voice straining. “I can barely keep up with this.” 

“But don’t stop,” she pleaded, half-silently. One of his fingers moved from around her throat and into her mouth, where she sucked on it, hollowing out her cheeks. He followed instruction quite well, continuing to rail into her desperately and erratically until her back was arching on the bed. “Oh, Draco!” 

She came as she cried his name, her body shaking under him. 

“Fuck,” he said under his breath, giving one last thrust. It was deeper than all the others and Hermione felt like she might split open. But then he was pulling out, a trail of cum following him. 

They laid next to each other on the bed for a while, both catching their breath with heaving chests. Hermione could still feel the imprint of his fingers around her throat. 

“ Why haven’t we been doing this since we were of consenting age again?” Draco asked, eventually cutting through the sound of their pants. 

She slapped him halfheartedly on the arm, rolling her eyes. 

“I’m gonna shower.” 

After washing the scent of sex off, she looked at herself in the mirror. She looked thoroughly shagged. She almost didn’t recognise herself – like she had been fucked into an entirely new person.

Her neck was raw and red, she had bite marks going down her entire body, and her hair was even more unmanageable than usual. There was nothing to be done about it now, so she simply threw on a new pair of knickers and her sleep shirt. 

She paused upon realising which shirt she had grabbed. Her only clean sleeping attire at the moment was one of Harry’s Gryffindor Quidditch shirts with ‘Potter’ emblazoned on the back. 

She had stolen it during one of their many summers at the Burrow, right before things had gotten really bad. It was her comfiest sleep shirt. She had tried   to give it to Ginny after purging her wardrobe  post-Hogwarts, but Ginny had insisted she keep it. The memory and meaning were too important;Hermione, Harry, and Ron had made it out of the darkest days, and they’d made it out together. The shirt was a comforting relic of that. 

Besides, Ginny had access to an endless supply of stolen clothes stolen from Harry. 

However, looking in the mirror and seeing the Gryffindor emblem here and now hit her with a wall of reality. She was sharing a hotel room with Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy was coming inside of her. Draco Malfoy was calling her ‘honey’ and ‘baby.’ 

This wasn’t an alternate timeline; this was real. 

Suddenly, memories flooded through her brain. 

Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement; Harry casting Sectumsempra in Myrtle’s bathroom; writhing on the floor of Malfoy Manor. 

She shook her head violently. The war was over . 

Deciding she had spent too much time with her own thoughts, she peeked out into the hotel room to see Malfoy asleep on the bed they hadn’t fucked on. Hermione stood there, awkwardly. 

As if he could read her mind, Draco lifted the covers open to her. 

“Don’t even think about it,” he said in a tired voice. “I might want you again later.” 

“If you wake me up while I’m sleeping, I will kill you,” she told him. “Theo has already agreed to take the fall for it.” 

“That’s fine,” he yawned. 

Hermione hesitated, but crawled into the bed with him anyway. She turned away from him to push her back against his chest. Draco groaned. 

“Does the back of your shirt really say ‘ Potter? ’” he asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Will it burn me if I touch it?” 

Hermione chuckled. “Oh, I quite hope so.” 

Malfoy’s arm wrapped around her regardless, pulling her closer into him. 

Draco Malfoy was holding her as she fell asleep. 

They only spent one night in Warsaw, so Hermione had only taken the things out of her bags that she’d needed. There wasn’t much to pack away, which made her feel like she was forgetting something. 

She paced around the dark room before Malfoy woke up, checking under all the beds and chairs for anything that might have gone disregarded during their romp the night before. 

Really, she wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself. 

She had no idea when the buses would leave and since Theo was usually the one who told her , she assumed he was also the one who usually told Draco . And she  didn’t want to wake him up because somehow, after everything, that felt like crossing a line. 

A knock on the door startled her from her pacing. 

She sighed in relief, thinking Theo had come to wake Malfoy and get them all going, but one look through the peephole had that relief slipping away. . It was Jonah was standing on the other side of the door. 

Hermione scurried to the bed and shook Draco by his large shoulders. 

“Malfoy,” she hissed. “Malfoy, get up.” 

His eyes opened slowly, but when they registered her standing over him, a smug grin grew on his face – washing away the innocence that had just been there. He tugged her down on top of him and began kissing her. 

Much to Hermione’s annoyance, her stomach did a flip. She hadn’t been on top of him before; hadn’t felt his strong grip and firm abs beneath her. 

Regardless, she pushed him away, pulling herself to her feet.  

“Malfoy, your manager is outside,” she said quietly. 

Draco rolled his eyes and dragged himself off the bed. Hermione’s cheeks flooded with heat as he walked towards the door in nothing but black pants that were a tad askew. She hid behind the wall to the bathroom so Jonah wouldn’t see her. 

“Bus leaves in twenty minutes, you good?” Jonah’s yankee  accent boomed throughout the room. 

“Yeah, I’ll be ready,” Draco yawned. “What’s this?” 

“Got it last night. Local rep was there. Thought you’d want a copy.” 

“Alright, I’ll see you in a second,” Malfoy said, and she heard the door shut. . “Okay Granger, you can come out, the scary man is gone.” 

“Sorry, did you want me to open the door?” she asked. 

He collapsed onto the bed they had messed up the night before, propping himself on one elbow to look at her. Some sort of magazine rested on the bed beside him. Hermione looked away. He looked like a fucking Greek statue laid out like that, nearly naked too. 

“You really can’t stand the idea of anyone knowing we slept together, huh?”

“You don’t know what it’s like to be a woman,” Hermione sighed. “They’ll start being weird around me. Think I’m easy or something.” 

“Why do I have a feeling you’re lying to me?” Malfoy asked. When she didn’t respond, he continued. “I think you think that the less people know about it, the more likely you’ll be able to act like it never happened. So, when you go home to your little Saint Potter, you won’t have to tell him what you did.” 

Hermione crossed her arms and pouted. He had a point.

“Well, really, what are we doing? Have you thought this through?” She sat down on the bed across from him. “Because I’m not sure that I have. We’re not just going to keep doing this, are we?” 

“Doing what? Fucking?” 

“Yes!” she blurted out. “Pretending that I’m not me, and you're not… you .” 

“I’m not pretending, sweetheart,” he told her earnestly. “I know exactly who you are.” 

“See? And that!” Hermione tried hard not to sound as hysterical as she was currently feeling. “Calling me ‘ darling’ and ‘ love’ and all that.”  

Now he rolled his eyes. 

“It’s just how I talk to people. Theo does it too,” he told her. 

He was right. Theo used terms of endearment as well and she’d even heard some of the other crew members using them. It must be a ‘band guy’ thing. 

“But this is different!” she exclaimed. “This is us! Have you gotten what you wanted? Shag Granger and be done with it, yeah?” 

Malfoy looked at her with dark eyes. 

“Clearly, you’re stuck much further in the past than I am. If you can’t move beyond the fact that it’s me you’re shagging, then we can be done here,” he said. “For the record, I would have had you as many times as you wanted. But I understand if you can’t forgive me for everything.” 

Hermione was silent. Now, how did she get here ? Was Draco Malfoy really being the bigger person in this situation? 

That blasted Gryffindor shirt had gotten into her head too much. It reminded her that being with Malfoy was ‘wrong.’ Wrong in the sense that he was branded as a Death Eater and she had fought in the Order. Wrong in the sense that he had once been the opposite of everything she stood for. Wrong in the sense that many of the people who knew her– Harry, Ron, the rest of the Weasleys– would never approve. 

But wasn’t that all perspective? Hermione Granger didn’t seek anyone else’s approval. No, being with Malfoy felt good. And she deserved good.

“So, what, then?” she asked after a while. “We’re fuck buddies now?” 

Malfoy let out a chuckle. 

“I think friends with benefits sounds a bit nicer, no?” 

“We’re not friends,” Hermione said without thinking. Draco feigned being injured, clutching a hand over his heart and making a pained face. “Seriously, are we in agreement here?” 

“What’s the proposition?” he asked. 

“We… can have sex whenever we want. Until the end of the tour,” she paused. There was that heavy thought again: the end of the tour. There was no telling what it would be like when she left this little rock-and-roll bubble.. The things she’d said to him when they were intimate…the secrets she’d let him know… 

“And then we never speak of any of this again, okay?” 

He smirked at her, but something in his expression looked tired. Sick of her rambling, probably. 

“Fine,” he nodded. Hermione leaned forward and held her pinky out. “What's this?” he asked.

“A pinky promise,” she told him. “Just wrap your pinky around mine and it makes it more official.” 

“It’s just sex, Hermione,” he sighed. “Do we really have to take an oath?” 

She didn’t falter. Her arm stayed stretched out in front of her, pinky up, as she looked him dead in the eyes. After a few moments, he caved, wrapping his finger around hers. 

“You have a deal, Granger. There’s a lot of this tour left. Plenty of ways to take you.” He winked at her before picking up the magazine by his side and handing it to her. “Now, since we have an eleven hour drive today, here’s this. In case you need a clearer image of me to touch yourself to.” 

He was on the cover of the magazine, in just a blazer with no shirt underneath. They had styled his hair differently and caked black eyeliner around his eyes. Hermione had to physically pull her gaze away from it. 

“This reminds me,” she said. “Cosmo wants to put you on the cover. Do they have your permission?” 

“I’ll be the cover story?” he asked, bringing himself to a sitting position. Hermione nodded. 

“Only if you write it, then.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously.” 

“You know that just creates more work for me,” she huffed as he got up and sauntered in the bathroom. 

“I know!” he called back. 

The bus ride was quite miserable, to say the least. 

Other than the bunks, the only other places to sit were couch-like structures that faced inward, meaning you could never really face the direction the bus was going in. 

Theo grew pale a few hours in, and took to sitting with his body awkwardly  twisted  to rest his forehead on the window. Hermione stood by tentatively, offering him seltzer water and  crackers. 

“He always gets nauseous on long drives, don’t worry about it,” Collin called from the back of the bus. “He won’t actually get sick.” 

Theo groaned. 

“No one asked you,” he said with his eyes half-closed. 

“We’re stopping in twenty minutes for some food,” the bus driver pitched in. “Hang in there.” 

“I’m taking Dreamless Sleep after we stop,” Theo breathed so only Hermione could hear.. 

Once at the rest stop, he stumbled out of the bus ahead of her and disappeared into the building.

“There he goes,” Draco sighed, startling Hermione the minute she stepped off the bus. He was leaning against the side of the vehicle, only pushing himself off when she walked past him. 

“You don’t get sick from muggle transportation?” she asked. 

“I’ve used enough Portkeys to not get sick from anything, really,” he replied. “Theo’s just a baby.” 

“I’ll check on him,” Collin sighed, passing them.   

Draco stopped at the door of the place, sauntering off to the side instead. “Hungry?” 

“A bit,” Hermione told him. 

“Can it wait until after my cigarette break?” 

“Why do I have to wait for you?” 

He chuckled as he stuck the cigarette between his teeth and slung one arm around Hermione’s neck, leaning in to light it. The smoke blew silently from his mouth before he dipped his head down to kiss her. 

She was taken off guard for a moment, her eyes held wide open. They weren’t about to have sex out in the open, so what was he doing? Had kissing been a part of their deal? 

But he was leaning his body on hers, pressing her backwards, and he tasted like nicotine, and reminded her of sex, and she decided this probably counted as foreplay. His tongue slipped into her mouth and she welcomed it fully; falling into what was quickly becoming familiar.  

Yes, she was definitely allowed to have this. 

They went at it until Malfoy’s cigarette had burned to a crisp, only stopping so he could take drags of it. People walked in and out of the building and Hermione’s eyes opened every time. It hadn’t been any of their crew so far. 

Until, of course, Theo popped his head out. 

“There you are, Hermione,” he said. “Can you guys not stop for two seconds to eat?” 

She found herself too flustered to throw him a dirty look, instead shuffling into the rest stop behind him. 

Malfoy, on the other hand, disappeared, and she didn’t see him until later that night in their hotel room, when they were far too sick of the confinement of the buses to do anything but sleep. 

Though there were two beds in the room, they still only used one. 

Hermione slept in her knickers and an oversized shirt like she always did and Draco slept in nothing but pants. Aside from a few lazy presses of his groyne to her arse or a hand on her thigh, they slept perfectly separate. After a few days of rough, ruthless, almost-hate sex, she felt entirely respected. 

They both rose early the next morning. Malfoy was heading straight to the venue for early setup, and interviews with local radio hosts. Hermione, on the other hand, was getting  all dressed up for a stroll by the Cologne Cathedral, laptop bag in hand. 

He exited the bathroom just as she was leaving, and she caught a brief glimpse of him.  Hermione couldn't help but ogle. He wore tight black jeans again, but instead of a shirt that looked like it would rip in half at any second, he was wearing a graphic t-shirt that he’d cut the sleeves off of. The modification exposed the sides of his rib cage just so. 

“See something you like?” he asked. 

“Just… surprised to see you have clothes that fit you,” she said with a smile before closing the door behind her.

She thought she should probably convince  Theo to switch their rooms back. Was she meant to kiss Malfoy before she left? She wasn’t his wife or anything. Was it weird  to platonically share a bed with someone you’d shagged? Was it possible that she thought entirely too much about absolutely everything? 

That last one was an affirmative, surely. 

Once she’d gotten a good look at the cathedral that had nearly brought her to tears, she hunkered down at a cafe nearby to keep it in view. It almost looked superimposed against the pale blue sky,like an anomaly that the world had accepted, but never truly integrated. It almost felt too beautiful to exist  in such a lonely square of this area of Cologne. It was dark and gothic, but had a romantic, angelic air surrounding it. Hermione smiled, knowing that for the next few hours she had the pleasure of its company.

The smile only faltered when she opened up a blank document on her laptop. After telling Evelyn that Draco had agreed to be on the cover, she had instructed Hermione that this article was to be different. Instead of another concert review, it should be more of a profile piece. 

“Write an insider account on what it’s like to know him and hang around him,” her boss had said. 

Hermione sighed. 

The previous morning’s reflections made the way to the forefront of her mind again. She felt almost… embarrassed. After all the work she’d put in after the war to move on from it all, it felt so counterproductive to resurface old memories when she was around Malfoy. Maybe she hadn’t given him enough of a chance. She’d been bitter from the moment she first saw him backstage. Her logic argued that she was perfectly justified in being bitter if she wanted to be. But none of it felt satisfying. 

When she still had absolutely nothing on her document by the time her coffee was gone and her pastry was absolutely demolished, she decided to shoot Theo a text.

What do you like about being Malfoy’s friend? Any quirks he has that immediately come to mind? Need help writing an article. 

Eventually, he wrote back, but with nothing of substance. 

I will not help you with this. Figure it out yourself. 

This beer is really good by the way. 

She huffed. So much for his help. 

So, this was who they were now, then: Hermione and Draco. A turbulent past, yes, but the details didn’t matter. They were… acquaintances. With benefits. It was all very low stakes and casual. For the sake of the article, she’d get to know this version of him a little better. What made muggle-world Draco tick? What kind of impression would he have made on a travelling journalist that had been anyone but her? 

Hermione sat back in her chair, turning her attention to the cathedral once more. It stood so stark and peaceful amongst the chaos at its feet, but in a way that was a bit unsettling and captivating nonetheless.

Not too unlike Malfoy. 

The day of the Cologne show started early, but flew by so fast that Hermione felt like she was in some sort of a time-warp. 

She’d gone to bed alone the night before, Malfoy only joining her at some ungodly hour of the night. Perhaps a post-work beer with the crew. 

Theo hadn’t said anything, but he’d also been daydrunk since the moment he’d opened his eyes yesterday. He arose before her, heading out on his star boy duties like it was a regular nine-to-five job. He must have his own secret stash of hangover potions, too.

Theo sat with her in the venue’s lounge as she edited pictures for hours on end, and even watched the door when she managed to set up a spotty– yet functional– floo call with her team back at the Ministry. 

They had nothing of substance to report, other than difficulty corresponding with other teams in the building. Everyone was used to Hermione doing the pestering – she told them to send a howler if they needed to. 

Though it wasn’t necessarily the most productive day of her entire life, she was absolutely bouncing off the walls by the time the show started. She was feeling quite accomplished at having contributed to both muggle and wizarding jobs today. 

She joined Theo on side stage for the opening band, who were exclusive to the Cologne show. It seemed Malfoy had a different local opener in each city. 

Tonight was an all-girls band and frankly, they rocked. Hermione watched in admiration as they shredded on guitar and fearlessly bopped around the stage in hot pink plaid shirts. Even the drummer, who never spoke to the crowd, was engaging to watch. She twirled her sticks frequently and smiled when her bandmates came over. She was so enthralled with them that she hadn’t noticed when another man took Theo’s place at her side. 

“They’re incredible, aren’t they?” the voice asked. Hermione looked over to see Malfoy’s guitarist, Elijah, watching the girls as they finished up their set onstage. 

“Oh, yeah, really brilliant,” she replied. 

“Elijah, by the way.” 

“Hermione.”

“I know,” he flashed a smile. “I’d been trying to work up the nerve to speak to you since the day you joined us.” 

“Oh,” she said quietly, giving him a polite smile. 

He didn’t flirt with her again– at least, not directly. 

As the stage hands removed the womens’ equipment and replaced it with Malfoy’s, Elijah pointed around the backstage area and gave Hermione the insider scoop on all of the crew members and their most embarrassing stories. He told her one time Tades passed out at a strip club and woke up to a bunch of the dancers leaning over him, asking if he was alright. He mentioned that the drummer, who he’d known all his life, forgot an entire song on stage once and they’d had to start over several times – in front of an audience not much smaller than tonight’s. 

Elijah had an accent she couldn’t quite place and while his stories were funny, his regional dialect made them hilarious. Hermione found herself doubled over with laughter by the time he was done and found herself once again grateful that she hadn’t ended up with the typical rock-scene scum. 

She was wiping tears from her eyes as the lights dimmed in anticipation for the band’s entrance. A gasp escaped her as Malfoy’s heavily tattooed arm came around her shoulder. 

“Alright, Elijah?” he asked. 

“‘Sup, man,” Elijah bumped his fist – the one that wasn’t balled up next to Hermione’s throat.

“I see you met Hermione,” Draco said, looking down at her. She met his eyes, which appeared quite amused. She jumped as his palm opened up and squeezed her breast, quite hard, once. 

“Erm, yeah,” Elijah responded. He touched his earpiece awkwardly, taking the hint. “Ready, Draco?” 

“See you later, eh, Granger?” Malfoy smirked at her as she struggled to say anything back. His hand slapped her arse, further silencing her.

Elijah looked between them tentatively before making his way on stage. She finally opened her mouth to say something and she felt anger rising from deep within, threatening to break free in a string of hexes. But Malfoy was gone and on stage before she managed it. 

She hate-watched him that night; fuming as he arrogantly pranced around the stage and absorbed every fragment of self-importance that the screaming crowd let him have. He took his shirt off and threw it into the audience, he licked his guitar strings, and he told cheeky stories in between songs. He was absolutely unbearable. 

Her mind reeled as she tried to simultaneously remain angry with the prick that was on stage and also figure out what the hell had just happened. He was driving her absolutely mad, in every sense of the word. 

She could still feel his handprint on her arse and she felt equally as irate about it as she did pleased. Hermione was reminded of candies the Weasley twins used to sell that would make smoke blow out of your ears for minutes on end.  That was exactly how she felt at that moment. 

She left before the show was over, marching out to her bus and laying in her bunk to stare at the ceiling. What bothered her the most was that she hadn’t been able to get in a snarky response.. He just…got away with it this time, and that was entirely unacceptable. 

His picture stared up at her from that stupid magazine cover at her feet. She let out a deep breath from her nose and was about to text Theo to please switch rooms with her again when  the screaming of fans outside the window gave her an idea. 

Hermione hopped out of her bunk and took one peek out the window. He was right there; less than five steps away from the bus door. She could be fast. 

“Leave the door open for a moment, please,” she told the bus driver. 

After exiting, she approached Malfoy and tapped him on the shoulder. He looked over at her and she wasn’t even sure he registered who she was before she spoke. 

“Hi, sorry, just wanted to give you something real quick,” she said sweetly. 

Then she grabbed him with one hand, holding his jaw between her fingers. She kissed him, tongue first, and gave his lips a few good pulls before she turned abruptly around and headed back onto the bus. 

The gasps she heard echoing behind her confirmed that they should be even now. 

Chapter Text

Playlist

Hermione had a whole plan laid out. 

Get to the hotel, hide in Theo’s room, sleep in Theo’s room, and simply avoid Malfoy for the rest of her life. 

The moments after she kissed him in front of his fans had felt empowering, triumphant…, even self-satisfying. But the longer the bus waited for him to be done meeting fans before leaving, the more those feelings spiralled into something far less savoury… embarrassment, perhaps? 

She’d stooped to his level. And after all her efforts to keep their little situation private, she’d kissed him right in front of a huge group of his cell phone wielding fans.

Her plan, however, was thwarted by Malfoy himself, who was waiting for her in the lobby again. They silently rode in the elevator alongside Theo, who smiled at them the whole time. Malfoy only broke their silence when he’d closed the hotel door behind him. 

“What was that for?” he asked, only the slightest tinge of annoyance detectable in his voice. “You know, part of my charm is appearing single and…not tied down.” 

“ Not tied down?” Hermione asked, coming in with much more fire than he had. “You did it first!” 

“What? With Elijah? You were flirting with him,” he said matter-of-factly. “I was just meeting fans.” 

“ Flirting ?” 

“Yes, I believe that was quite obvious from the way your little cackle was carried through the entirety of the backstage area.” 

Hermione let out a string of huffs and puffs, amused gasps and speechless breaths. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest. 

“And?” she prompted. “Are you jealous or something?” 

“Frankly, yes,” Draco responded. “I was.” 

His earnestness took her aback. She was sure he was joking until she met his icy eyes. 

They were envious. His jaw clenched and flexed. He looked  desperate. 

In fact, he looked quite pathetic; completely under her spell. Who would have known Draco Malfoy would break so easily after just a few rounds of sex. 

“I don’t belong to you!” Hermione blurted out. 

He rolled his eyes, but she could tell it was forced. He wasn’t as nonchalant as he’d like her to think. 

“You were jealous before we started shagging,” he sighed, busying himself by placing his suitcase on the bed and unzipping it. 

“That’s because you were being ridiculous and playing games,” she retorted. “You. Don’t. Own. Me.” 

“Even when you choke yourself so nicely on my cock?” he asked in a patronising tone. 

Hermione let out an offended gasp. 

“You have a million screaming women out there desperate to ride your cock. Why do you need my loyalty?” 

“Because I don’t fucking share!” Draco said angrily, his voice raspy. He threw down some clothes he was rummaging through and turned to her with a hard expression. An enraged breath revealed how much he meant it. “So. Make your choice.”  

Oh. So it was possessiveness. Like his namesake; a dragon hoarding its gold.

She didn’t belong to him, obviously. But frankly, she had no interest in shagging anyone else. And the look on his face… It was so controlling. So dominating. So… desirable . 

Hermione’s cunt twitched to life. She could work with this. 

“I don’t care,” she said quietly, watching the anger in his expression evolve. He pushed away from the bed, running harsh hands through his hair and tugging at the strands. When he turned to her, he was absolutely bursting with rage. 

“You’re so fucking insufferable! Unbelievably difficult,” he spat. “I remember now why you pissed me off so badly in school. Do you ever just – ” 

Hermione lunged towards him, throwing her arms and legs around him and meeting his lips with an unpleasant banging of teeth. He stumbled backwards as he caught her, his back hitting the wall with a distinct thump . 

But he was kissing her all the same. Like a desperate little boy who might never get the chance to again. She may have been the one who mounted him, but he was entirely in control, clawing his rough hands under her blouse, kissing her with a fervour she could barely keep up with. He sucked and nipped at her lips so hard she thought they might split and bleed out.

She took to grinding her clit on his abdomen, as she needed something to satiate the desperate throbbing. . 

When they parted for air, his air of confidence had been renewed. 

“See what I mean?” he sighed, his breath hot on her neck. He bit her tender skin there in between words. “You’re all over me. You already made your choice. You love that you’re mine. Look at how you rub yourself against me, like a bitch in heat.” 

“I thought you said it was just sex,” she breathed, her body wriggling despicably on his. She kept her eyes closed, leaning back in to kiss him like a need for survival. He dodged her every attempt.

“And I thought we made a pinky promise,” he replied, the tone of his voice sinfully low. 

“God, will you shut up ?” Hermione asked, her eyes flying open to look at him. 

“No,” Draco said firmly, his hands travelling down to her arse where he dug his fingernails into skin as he gripped her hard. “Not until you admit it.” 

She whimpered. 

“I won’t.”

Malfoy growled deep in his throat and threw her off. She stumbled, landing on her feet, and looked at him with betrayal in her eyes. But before she could even worry that he was done with her, he was ripping her shirt over her head, and unhooking her bra masterfully. She was bare-chested in front of him in mere seconds. 

“You will,” he told her, reaching out to palm her breasts roughly. He leaned down to trail his tongue around her nipples and between her sternum. She moaned and caught her hands in his hair to keep him there. 

“You gonna make me?” she asked weakly. 

“Yes.” 

He pulled away from her and began undoing his belt, which sent a rush of anticipation straight to her toes. But instead of undressing himself further, he wrapped the belt around both of her wrists roughly. He held it there with his fingers before summoning his wand  and tapping it. The belt tightened painfully around her wrists, soliciting a sharp gasp.

Malfoy pushed her down by the shoulders, and her knees burned as they scraped against the rough carpet. She watched as he pulled his trousers and pants down, his long cock bouncing once it was free of its confines. Her tongue shot out instinctively, wanting to lap up the bead of precum she saw, but he pulled away from her. 

“See how bad you want it?” he asked with a chuckle. “Open.” 

She did. Her mouth formed a wide ‘O’ shape, her tongue sticking out to welcome him. 

He walked forward, stuffing his cock directly in her mouth with no intention to start off gentle. Immediately, he was rocking his hips back and forth and Hermione fought against the gagging sensation at the back of her throat from the rough start. But he felt so good inside her mouth; she didn’t want to give him any reason to remove himself. 

“I like you much better like this,” he breathed. “Being a good little girl and doing what you’re told. No chance to talk back when my cock’s down your throat, hmm?” 

Hermione whimpered around him as he took fistfuls of her hair and started moving her head in tandem with his hips. His tip hit the back of her throat repeatedly as he sped up his motions, fucking her face even harder than he had during their first time together. She brought her bound hands up to seek balance on one of his thighs, but that only placed his cock at an even steeper angle in her mouth, his piercing scraping the roof of it. 

But she took it. With  tears running down her face, she gave him the best head she had ever performed. She would serve as the best little sex toy he’d ever had. She’d provoked him and this was how she was– happily – paying for it. 

When he finally removed himself, she doubled over, choking and gasping for air. That was all the recovery time he allowed her as he moved behind her, lifting her into the air with his arms around her middle. She was thrown onto one of the beds, landing on her elbows and knees. Her cunt clenched, pulsing with need at how easily he tossed her around. 

Malfoy pulled aside her knickers and was immediately lining up at her entrance, pushing himself in. As always, the sensation took her breath away, withstanding the long moments before he bottomed out. 

“I know I don’t own you, baby,” his voice said seductively from behind her. “But this is where you belong, don’t you think? You look so pretty. Face down, ass up, with me inside of you.” 

Hermione groaned as he began pumping inside her. Draco let out his own grunts as he struggled against her tightness. 

“How can you even look at another man?” he asked quietly.

She bit her lip to restrain from answering. Keeping him angry and jealous was the plan to get herself shagged senseless.

“Huh?” he prompted impatiently, a splayed hand smacking her arse sharply. Hermione choked out a sob, tears still running down her face. “Say it. Admit it. Fucking say it. Tell me I have you.” 

He picked up the speed of his thrusts, which made her lose the sensation that had been building in anticipation of an orgasm. She whined in defiance. 

“ Yes . Yes, I love your cock,” she slurred. “I love when you fuck me. I love it .”

“That’s not what I asked, Hermione,” he said, continuing to thrust into her mercilessly “I already know all that.” 

She was collapsing over her own arms, as the restraint around her wrists made it nearly impossible to brace herself. She was completely at his mercy. Whatever he wanted, he was going to get it. 

“What do you want?” she choked out. 

“I want you to be mine for the rest of our little deal or I’m calling it off. No more of this, do you understand? Just mine or you lose this,” He slipped his cock out of her and she protested with a low moan. But then he was back inside, using just his tip to fuck her entrance. The feeling of his piercing on that low point right past her opening made her let out a wail. He kept at that length and pace– no further than the tip– edging her. Her body started to seize up, getting ready for the wave of ecstasy that he wouldn’t allow her to have. Then he wrapped a hand around her neck, pulling her towards him. “I don’t– fucking– share.” 

She wanted it. She wanted to come immediately, yes. But she always wanted it– wanted him – later too. Wanted him again. Tomorrow. The next day. Every day until she stepped foot back into the Ministry of Magic. 

Her submission would not be ill-placed. 

“Fine!” she cried out against the pressure on her throat. “‘I’m yours. I want to be yours. Only you. No one else. Just, please .” 

“What’s my name?” he asked. 

Hermione groaned and his grip around her neck tightened. With the angle he was holding her, her bound hands bounced awkwardly in front of her, becoming absolutely useless. 

“Say my name, Granger.” 

His rough voice grated across her ears along with his hot breath on the back of her neck. 

“Draco,” she squeaked out, feeling scandalised. She’d said his name while he shagged her before, but she’d never been coaxed into it like that. It felt filthy on her lips. “Please, Draco.” 

She couldn’t see his face, just the bouncing of his blonde hair out of the corner of his eyes as he thrusted into her, but he made a sound of triumph before pushing all the way in once more. Hermione let out an extremely indecent moan at his entry, which Malfoy topped off with his fingers on her clit. Her final sound of pleasure was  a high-pitched scream as she came around his cock, her legs shaking uncontrollably.

He kept going until he finished himself, bucking his hips into her arse so hard that she face-planted into the mattress. 

“All for me,” he breathed as his cum filled her up.  

They laid next to each other again, staring at the ceiling, as Hermione processed the absolute fucking she had just received. Draco loosened the belt around her wrists until it fell off, leaving red marks in her skin. It was exactly how she always fantasised her best sex: rough, mean, and a little degrading. 

Apparently, starting an argument and making the bane of her existence somehow jealous was all she had needed to do this whole time. 

“You keep shagging me like that,” she began, still catching her breath. “And I mean it, I‘ll never have sex with anyone else ever again if you don’t want me to. Only with you. I’d take a fucking Unbreakable Vow.” 

Malfoy chuckled. The sound was so light and airy in the wake of his commanding bedroom voice. He took her hand in his and kissed the back of it softly. 

The gesture took her out of the moment; it was so tender and sweet. Her mind wandered, as infuriatingly curious as it always was. 

If that was how he treated someone he was only shagging – and shagging roughly at that – she wondered how pleasant he could be if he ever were to fall in love. 

On the six and a half hour bus ride to Berlin, Hermione tried her hand at the article again. 

She certainly knew more about Draco now than she had twenty-four hours ago. He was possessive, but  had a soft side. Hermione concluded that these two characteristics most likely meant that he was ‘sensitive.’  

Sure, his mood swings and sudden outbursts could have told her that, but it was still hard to believe the cocky Slytherin would feel anything but self-assured. 

She got some bullet points down on paper, at least;

Good with fans. (Perhaps too good).

Communicative with bandmates. (Sarcastic? Maybe).

Will use any means to achieve his ends. (Very clever). 

She sighed and closed the laptop once more, gaining Theo’s attention. 

At the last rest stop, she’d introduced him to Dramamine and seltzer water, the latter of which he was currently clutching against his chest like a support blanket. 

“What’s this?” he asked, pointing to her wrist. 

“ Shit,” Hermione said under her breath. She’d forgotten to glamour the marks Draco’s belt had left on her. She cast a quick spell on them now but, of course, there really was no point. Theo had already seen. 

“He’s rough, isn’t he?” Theo smirked at her.

She knit her eyebrows together. 

“What do you mean ‘ isn’t he?’” she asked. 

The boy just shrugged and took another sip of his sparkling water. 

“Have you…” Hermione began, but thought it best not to finish her sentence. 

She’d wanted Theo to keep her business quiet, so there was no reason to ask him to air his. Besides, they couldn’t have, right? They’re best friends. Wouldn’t that be weird? 

Although, they both were very attractive. It was a pleasing image, at the very least. 

God, all this testosterone was getting to her. She shook the thought from her mind. 

“Is it true there’s a dinner tonight?” she asked instead. 

“Yeah, real fancy place,” Theo replied. “Jonah gets a discount or something. We go every time we’re in Berlin.” 

Hermione wracked her mind for the contents of her suitcase. Had Ginny packed anything that would be appropriate for a ‘real fancy place?’ She’d worn most of her dresses already due to the heat ( not for easy access, thank you very much.) 

The thought nagged her until they reached the hotel.They’d arrived late in the day, just an hour or two before dinner, so Malfoy hopped right into the shower to get ready. 

Now alone in the hotel room, Hermione dumped all her belongings out onto the floor. To her relief, Ginny had, in fact, thrown in the most perfect summer dress. She imagined the redhead must have been feeling partial to this particular dress, considering Hermione had worn it to Ginny and Harry’s summer wedding. 

The couple had no bridesmaids or groomsmen, just a small group of friends that watched them get married in a beautiful villa, passed down to Harry with Grimmauld Place after Sirius’ passing. Hermione had worn a blue dress that reached her ankles with layers of ruffles cascading to the ground. The bodice was heart shaped and accentuated her in all the right places. A long slit came up the side of her thigh for breathability. She hadn’t worn the dress since the wedding and found herself quite pleased to have a new opportunity to do so. 

It slipped on easily, the fabric falling around her like it had been magically altered just for her. Aegean blue contrasted with the cinnamon brown of her hair so nicely, it turned her eyes a pretty honey colour. She accessorised with some silver earrings, bracelets, and a necklace, smiling at her reflection in the floor-length mirror, giving a spin to watch the light fabric twirl around her. It was a nice change of scenery from all of the ripped jeans and tight shirts of the rock and roll world.

Malfoy emerged from the shower in only a poorly-tied towel around his waist. 

“Oh, hello ,” Hermione said, looking pointedly away from him, her cheeks hot . “You really hate clothes, don’t you?” 

“Granger…” he began quietly, ignoring her comments. She looked up at him briefly,  catching his eyes which were glued on her. He was moving towards her very slowly, as if something was drawing him in. The water droplets across his bare chest brightened the colours of his tattoos. 

“You look –” He was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone across the room, which played an odd sort of song. Some sort of classical music waltz. 

“Sorry, have to get that, it’s my mother,” he said, striding towards the far bed. “She picked that ringtone.” 

Hermione nodded and hurried into the bathroom, which was hot and foggy from Malfoy’s shower. She’d let this man take her in so many different ways now, there was no reason she should be flustered. But when she heard him say ‘Granger’ in his familiar voice, it brought her back to reality for a moment. When she remembered it was him, something changed. 

She played with her hair, trying to tame it in every which way, but eventually decided to style it half-up, half-down. Makeup was…a different question. She didn’t want to look too nice, as she knew it would attract attention in a room full of men, but a dark red lip never hurt anyone, right?. She smiled in the mirror, quite happy with the outcome, as she caught parts of Malfoy’s conversation with Narcissa. 

“Yes, we’re in Berlin now,” he said. “The show is tomorrow… no, we’re going to a dinner tonight with the crew.” 

There was a long silence as Narcissa answered, but Hermione thought it best to stay in the bathroom until the conversation was over. 

“I’m glad to hear you’re having a good time,” he said before another pause. “No I haven’t… yes, Mother, I will. Okay. I love you.” 

Hermione thought the way he spoke to his mother was so…soft. He’d been more than respectful to Narcissa when she had been here, but it seemed that when distance was put between them, he took extra care. A side effect of the war? Two people who had almost lost each other? 

Hermione almost felt bad for listening. She was interrupting a sweet moment that wasn’t hers. 

She only emerged from the bathroom when she heard him flip his phone closed and rummage through his things. He was in the middle of putting on a white button-up as he looked up to give her a small smile.

“You know, she smacked me in the head before she left,” he told her with a breathy chuckle. 

“What for?” 

“Because I never apologised to you,” Draco said, tucking his shirt into his trousers and sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Oh,” Hermione said softly. “You don’t need to apologise.” 

“You would say that,” he sighed. “I know it’s selfish, but I was afraid if I brought it up, it would scare you away. You even being here in the first place has been so… fragile. But I owed you an apology about eight years ago.” 

“Malfoy, it’s okay.” 

“No, let me finish,” he took a deep breath in through his nose and closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry for a lot of things. For what I called you in school, for what happened in my home, and even for my mother bringing it up at lunch when she was here. She’s still really torn up about everything. Her husband… our Manor. It comes out in weird ways. I wanted to warn you beforehand but didn’t get the chance. I never really know what she’s going to say.” 

“I didn’t think you were the apology type,” Hermione said honestly. 

“I’m not,” Draco shrugged. “But when you bully someone through their entire childhood, watch your aunt torture them and do nothing about it, amd then they write the Wizengamot on your behalf when you’re on trial… I think they deserve it.” 

“I didn’t know you knew about that,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. 

“They presented it as anonymous but I knew from the language you used. I had a schoolboy crush on you, remember? I paid attention to the words you used in your essays. I knew a Granger letter from a mile away. Anyway, I should have done this before I got…" Draco cleared his throat. “ Jealous. I had no right to feel that way when you still have well-placed anger towards me.” 

Silence fell between them. The moment was so raw, so vulnerable. Hermione shifted uncomfortably. 

“Now, don’t get me wrong,” he continued eventually. “I am only apologising for calling you a filthy little ‘you-know-what.’ Not for calling you an insufferable swot. I stand by that.” 

Hermione let out a nervous laugh, but the moment was still tense. She'd been standing the whole time, shifting her weight back and forth, and fiddling with her bracelets. 

“Well, thank you,” she said firmly. “I needed that.” 

Another silence followed in which Hermione replayed the conversation quickly in her head. 

“I noticed you said ‘her husband’? 

Draco shrugged. 

“Not much to it, I just don’t consider him my father,” he told her. “After everything he did to her. But she still loves him. Not as dramatic as it sounds, really.” 

Hermione nodded. 

“That makes sense. Sorry,” she said, wanting to quickly change the subject. “I’m just surprised you got Narcissa to use a muggle cell phone.” 

“Her owls kept missing me and she would make herself sick with worry,” he replied with a grin. “She’s seen one too many things about muggle transportation. Though, with the cell phone, she certainly calls me too much.” 

Hermione smiled sadly. She wanted that. 

“That’s nice.” 

His next question was expected, but rattling nonetheless. 

“How are your parents?” 

“Oh, it’s a sad story, honestly,” she shook her head quickly. “I don’t think you want me to be the girl that cries in your hotel room.” 

“Well, thanks to Nott, it’s your hotel room too,” he said. “But you don’t have to tell me.” 

Draco got up and grabbed a navy blue blazer that matched his trousers. But Hermione had entered a sort of trance, her eyes fixated on the ugly hotel room carpet. Her feet brought her over to the bed opposite the one Malfoy had been on, and she sat down shakily. 

“Hermione?” he asked, taking long strides over to her, and offering his arms out for support. 

“Sorry, I’m fine,” she told him and he resumed his seat on the bed. “It’s just…I obliviated my parents. Before the war really kicked off. I didn’t want them to be a target. They have no idea I exist and now they live in Australia and I have no idea what their life is like.” 

The air in the room became thin and Hermione’s throat grew sore. 

“I took the job at Cosmopolitan because it was my mom’s favourite magazine. I thought that if I wrote for them, there was a chance she’d read it. I know it probably doesn’t make sense but – ” 

“It makes sense,” Malfoy said, his voice strong. 

Hermione finally looked up. She  met his eyes while fighting back the tears that were forming in hers. 

“That’s why I’m here, actually,” she admitted. The words were just flowing now before she could stop them. “I promised myself I’d never use magic to see them again. But when my manager told me about the tour and said it was going to Australia, I knew you’d be using muggle transportation. I thought it was my loophole. That I’d – that I’d be able to see them again. I don’t know how,but… that's why I’m here.” 

Her hand came up to wipe her eyes, but it was shaking too profusely. She set it back down on her knee. 

Draco’s own hand reached out and covered it. His skin was soft and cold, as it usually was, but there was no sexual urge that came along with it this time. Just a sense of grounding and comfort. She looked up at him and managed a smile to the best of her ability. 

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” he breathed. 

“Thank you,” she replied. “Now, let me fix my makeup.” 

At dinner, Malfoy slipped back into his usual demeanour; self-assured, sly, cocky. 

As the ‘post-cry’ feeling stuck with her for the next few hours, Hermione felt like she’d witnessed something confidential when she had shared about her parents. How many people had gotten to see that side of Draco Malfoy? 

Every time her eyes found him across the table, she felt a fluttering in her stomach. She’d been so vulnerable in front of him. So intimate in a way they’d never been before. 

Something had shifted. 

To busy herself and take her mind off of the heavy thoughts, she pulled out her camera and began taking candids of the crew once dinner had ended. Theo and Draco posed for theirs, clearly too many beverages deep. They spoke to each other in fragmented segments, cracking each other up. Hermione watched them in amusement and wondered how neither of them let their magic slip in moments like this. 

She walked them back to the buses, one boy on each arm. Malfoy rode in their bus, as Hermione had taken on the role of designated sober friend for some reason. 

Back at the hotel, she dragged him to Theo’s room first, only leaving when he was safely in bed with his shoes kicked off. 

Draco stumbled through the door of their own room and Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle. He was a happy drunk, singing under his breath and making stupid sounds each time he nearly tripped over his own two feet. 

He began to remove his blazer and unbutton his shirt as Hermione realised that after everything she’d seen him do on this tour so far, this was absolutely the most attracted to him she’d ever been;goofy, face-flushed, but as masculine as ever. Spinning around to look at her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. 

“You look…like a fucking goddess,” he slurred. “I mean, really. Just delicious . It kind of reminds me of the Yule Ball except now you’re all grown and…sexy. I would fuck the shit out of you right now. But…I’m drunk, so I won’t touch you.” 

“Okay, Malfoy,” she laughed, wishing that his words hadn’t aroused her so much. “You get to bed.” 

Hermione showered and afterwards found Draco in his pants, passed out on top of the covers. She took the blanket from the second bed and covered him up with it before getting underneath as well. 

“Goodnight, Draco.” 

To her displeasure, Hermione woke in the morning still very much aroused . 

Her clit was begging to be touched and she squeezed her thighs together in discomfort. She could rub one out quickly before Malfoy woke up, but what was the fun in that? 

She turned to him, hoping he’d wake soon. But even if he did, she had never been a fan of initiating sex with her previous partners. She’d learned men didn’t really like it. It was on their time or no one’s. 

It was absolutely misogynistic, was what it was. 

Hermione placed a hand on his chest, relishing the skin-to-skin contact. Then she rubbed her bare leg against his, hooking it on the inside of his thigh. He began to stir, so she pressed herself up against him even more. 

His eyes fluttered open and when they registered her, he smiled. His hand covered hers on his chest and he leaned in to kiss her. The alcohol was still strong on his breath. 

“You feeling hungover?” she asked against his lips. 

“Not enough to miss out on this,” he replied, moving his other arm to rest on her hip. 

He kissed her softly, but his tongue made its first appearance early, adding exponentially to her arousal. She wanted it, and she wanted it now. She wouldn’t be afraid to ask for it. 

She moaned quietly against his lips, encouraging him along. He got the hint, sliding his hand under her shirt until he reached her bare breasts. Groping them with his strong hand, Hermione began rubbing herself against his thigh. 

“Want you, Draco,” she breathed. 

“You have me,” he said, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her nipple. 

“Now.”

He continued to kiss her lazily, lapping his tongue all over her lips. His hand left her breast and found her knickers instead. Hermione bent her knees to help him remove them, kicking them further under the covers. 

When his fingers found her clit, a high-pitched whimper escaped her. 

“So wet,” Malfoy whispered. “Already?” 

“You said you would’ve fucked the shit out of me last night,” Hermione said shakily as he worked his fingers in a steady circle, making her cunt clench. “I’ve been waiting.” 

He chuckled as he dipped two long fingers inside of her, taking her breath away. She bucked her hips upward, desperate for more. Her hand closest to Draco found its way down his firm abdomen, slipping under the waistband of his bands. But it struggled when it got there, his fingers curling at that perfect angle inside of her. 

“Come here,” he said, his voice deep. He removed his fingers and tugged on her hips, her slickness cold on her skin. 

She hitched a leg over and sat astride him, his bulge hitting her right where she needed it. Immediately she was rolling her hips on him, her breath hitching. He tugged at her sleep shirt, which she quickly pulled off over her head. 

“I’m gonna come in two seconds if you don’t stop that,” Malfoy told her, and she  chuckled.

She helped him push his pants down and spread the precum from his tip down his length. It wasn’t quite enough, so she licked her palm and pumped him again. Then she hovered over him as she lined his cock up to her entrance. A violent gasp left her as his tip slipped in past his piercing. She lowered herself carefully, feeling like he was splitting her in half. His cock throbbed against her walls with an intense amount of pressure. When their hips met, she let out a long whine. 

“You got it, baby,” he breathed. “You can take it.” 

Hermione began to roll her hips slowly, which already took all of her strength. Malfoy’s hands gripped her hips, helping her along, but he never sped her pace up. Instead, he kept her there, slowly and surely, as her clit dragged across his abdomen with each pass. 

She didn’t protest. The steadiness made everything so much more intense. 

“Mmmmmm, Hermione, ” Draco moaned, his head dropping back. 

“When did you start calling me that?” she asked, smiling at his pleasure. 

“When you let the rest of the world call you Granger.” 

“Always have to be special, don’t you?” 

“I’ll let my career choice speak for itself.” 

He pushed her hips back and forth slightly faster, and she matched his request. When she kept the pace steady, his hands dropped down to her thighs, squeezing them. Hermione’s hands were both flat against his chest, putting all of her weight on him. She’d never seen his tattoos so clearly before. There was a dragon, a few snakes, a skull, and even some butterflies. He had thorned vines as fillers, following the flow of his scars. 

Her legs began to shake around him as a tight heat pooled in her abdomen. 

“ Fuck ,” she choked out, grinding into him in a way that made her feel his full length inside of her. 

He met her eyes, his pupils blown out, and watched her carefully with his mouth half open. The iciness of his eyes in the morning light was intense, and she realised how exposed she was. He could see every inch of her; breasts bouncing, stomach rolling, her thighs clenching at his sides. And she felt seen. 

He knew how to worship a woman’s body. 

She came with a cry, her body jutting awkwardly on his as the orgasm wracked through her. 

Draco helped her along afterwards, finding her hips again and grabbing them with a firm grip. He pulled her back and forth as she held onto his chest for dear life. His breath was shaky, intertwining with groans, as she felt the surge coming up his cock. He filled her with his cum and she was sure there was no space for it inside of her. She collapsed at his side, making a mess of their combined orgasms as she went. 

“Well, good morning,” he panted. 

“Good morning,” she chuckled, her cheeks going red. 

“I’d love to hang around, but Jonah will kill me if I’m late to soundcheck,” Draco told her. “Cool if I take a shower?” 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” she replied. 

Asking her permission to shower?  

She decided to stay under the covers until she, too, could shower, wondering for a moment if she should just hop in with him. Shower sex would be one thing, but just cleaning themselves at the same time might be a little too intimate. 

When he returned, his hair was sopping wet and she looked away as he dressed himself. 

“I’ll leave you my number in case you need anything before the show,” he told her. “I don’t check it much, but I’ll try to keep it in my pocket.” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. Things were starting to add up. 

“You’re acting weird. Soft,” she said. “I’m not stupid. You pity me after what I told you yesterday.” 

Draco looked at her for a moment, cocking his head to the side. 

“It was some pretty heavy stuff, to be fair,” he replied. 

“Stop it. I don’t like it. It’s not right,” she sighed. “Even the way you shagged me just now. All tender and slow. Use me like a sex toy again.” 

He laughed, but she meant it. 

She didn’t want her little confession to result in Malfoy going all nice guy on her. It wouldn’t be natural, would it? 

“Well, I think you’re well aware that you’re not an object,” he said, putting his shoes on. “But I can definitely fuck you like one if that’s what you want. I’m not exactly a morning person. You want a rough shag, you have to get me at the right time.” 

“Noted,” she nodded. 

“In fact, make sure you’re on side stage when I’m done tonight,” he winked at her. 

“ Duly noted.” 

“See you later, Granger.” 

Then he was out the door. 

The next time she saw him,  he was on stage running around like a madman, sliding across the stage on his knees, wrapping the microphone wire around his neck, and sticking his tongue out as far as it would go during guitar solos. It seemed like each night, he got even more comfortable.. 

And as the final note played out, Hermione felt her stomach twist. She would finally get to experience what that raw, unhinged stage energy would feel like…first-hand. 

Chapter Text

The stage lights went out. 

Draco didn’t skip a beat. He jogged off stage, handed his guitar to Collin, grabbed a towel from Tades, caught a water bottle from Jonah, and placed his hand on the small of Hermione’s back to lead her off of side stage to the backstage area. 

He didn’t speak on the way there, just wiped the sweat off his face with the towel and downed the water bottle almost entirely in one go. Hermione struggled to keep up with his long strides, but couldn't help looking at him out of the corner of her eye to watch the beads of sweat drip down his broad chest. 

Finally, they reached one of the lounges and Malfoy locked the door behind them. He went straight to the bathroom and turned on the shower. 

“Take all that off,” he demanded, waving his hand vaguely at Hermione. 

“…My clothes?” she asked. 

“Obviously. I’m not gonna shag you through your jeans,” he said, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh,” Hermione said, dumbfounded. 

She began idly taking her clothes off as Malfoy checked the temperature of the water with his hand. Fresh off stage like this, he looked like a movie character plucked right from the screen. The main heartthrob — in his sweaty, adrenaline-high glory —right in front of her. 

All hers. 

His hair was slick with sweat, the longer blonde locks sticking to his face like they had in that giant poster of him at the O2. Hermione remembered rolling her eyes at it then; the pose, the styling, the sheer vanity of it all. 

But now that it was right in front of her, she wanted to lick it — lick him —from top to bottom. 

Having undressed, she stood nude in the large bathroom, awaiting his next command.  He turned to face her and let out a heavy breath. Immediately, he tugged at his belt and unzipped his trousers, kicking them to the floor like he absolutely hated them. His cock sprung out of his pants and he closed in on her, pushing her up against the long sink counter. 

“God, I’m about to fucking burst,” he breathed before leaning in to kiss her, hands on either side of her face. 

She gripped his flank, and tried to ignore the urgent press of his hard length against her stomach.

Gods, did it go up that high inside her too?

His kisses were sloppy and wet, and from the way he was leaning into her — forcing her back to arch over the vanity — she could tell he was exhausted. His hands fell lazily to her collarbones, sending a hot tingle up her neck. 

Tongue still in her mouth, he lifted her up onto the vanity’s ledge. Without warning, he ran two fingers up her slit, making her squeal. 

“You’re wet, but I’m gonna cast a lubrication charm, okay?” he asked. 

Hermione nodded. He did, wordlessly, and she gasped at the extra slickness between her legs. He lined himself up to her entrance and she wondered briefly what it was about sweat dripping from a man’s hair that made them so attractive. 

“I was hard the whole fucking show,” he told her through gritted teeth.“Couldn’t stop thinking about the way you were riding me this morning. Fucking annoying. Do you know how hard it is to sing with your boner trapped in skinny jeans?” 

“No,” Hermione chuckled nervously. 

He pushed himself inside with a guttural moan. 

He wasn’t lying —he was pent up. 

She thought about everything she’d watched him do on stage — how sensual he was, how aggressive . 

A whole crowd in front of him but she was the one on his mind.

The thought made her positively burst with an arrogance that could rival Malfoy’s. Was this how he felt all the time — addicted to the attention? It was all starting to make sense now. She bit down on a smile that threatened to cross her face. 

Draco pushed down on her stomach, causing her to lean back and rest her head at an awkward angle against the wall. She didn’t mind, as she had the perfect view of where they met;his cock sliding in and out of her, the tip nowhere to be seen. 

He’d always been rough with her, but this time felt carnal . She could feel the skyrocketing of his pulse and the buzz from the stage rattling along his skin. His face was flushed with physical exertion and his body was sticky with sweat. She relished the way he sullied her, wiping his perspiration across her stomach, letting it drip onto her breasts from his hair. 

Just a few minutes ago, he’d been captivating thousands of people in an arena. Now, he was pleasuring her with the same fervour. Hermione hummed, biting her bottom lip. 

“Feel good?” he rasped. 

“Always,” she said, her eyes fluttering closed. She gripped the ledgecountertop with her fingers, letting the coolness of it tempercounter the warmth that was enveloping her. 

“You keep smiling,” he said, barely slowing his thrusts to talk to her. “What are you thinking about?” 

Hermione kept her eyes closed, but the smile crept up her face even more. 

“It’s wicked,” she admitted. “I can’t say it.” 

“Hermione, my cock is inside of you. It can’t be that bad.” 

She opened her eyes to meet his, her face growing red. The way he grunted while pumping inside of her fueled her little giggles even more. 

“I was just thinking… all those girls out there... they swoon over you,” she said. “Then you leave the stage, and you’re gone. They never get to see you like this. But I do.” 

A crooked smirk took over his face. 

“Look who’s full of herself now,” he said. 

“It’s petty. I shouldn’t think it,” she shook her head. “It's not a competition.” 

“That’s because there’s no competing with you, Granger.” 

She hummed in contentment. “You’re an arse kisser,” she told him. “Now fuck me harder.” 

He let out an amused sigh, but did as she said, increasing the speed of his thrusts until she struggled to breath. One of her hands reached out and clutched his slick shoulder, her fingernails scraping his skin. 

“Let it out,” he encouraged. “Make me bleed.” 

She clawed at him, letting out a string of moans as her head smacked the wall repeatedly, but she couldn’t get a grip on  him.  He jerked his hips harder, diving deeper into her than he’d ever been, stretching her opening to near pain as he came. 

She screamed, her hand scratching his pectoral as she flailed, leaving red streaks across his tattoos. 

“Sorry,” he groaned, pulling out of her. “I told you I was about to burst. I’ll finish you with my fingers.” 

He helped her off the vanity and held the shower door open.. She stepped in and let the water wash over her, trying to ignore her throbbing cunt. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to —” she began. 

“Don’t be crazy,” he said, spinning her around. His body blocked most of the water from hitting her, though she could still feel it spraying onto her hair and legs.

Draco pushed her forward lightly toplace her palms on the clear glass in front of her. His arms snaked around her, one holding her around the waist and the other slipping between her legs.

Her cunt was so ready for him. 

It seemed he was an observant lover, as he already knew the spots that made her shake. He bent his fingers with each pump, and her face pressed up against the shower wall as she dissolved into a mess of lazy moans. 

The hand around her waist travelled  to her breasts, and he pinched her nipple between his fingers. 

“ Mmm, yes ,” she breathed into his touch. 

“You have a cute arse,” he told her, nuzzling his face into the mess of her curls.

“Shut up,” she said, only half-heartedly. 

“I think ‘thank you Draco’ would be more appropriate.” 

“Don’t call my arse cute. ” 

“You’re so bloody difficult,” he said, but she could hear the grin on his face. 

As the momentum of his fingers built the intensity, she leaned back and hold onto him more firmly. He must have picked up on her breathing patterns and knew she was close because he continued thrusting his fingers into her at the same pace but curled them further, hitting that spot deep inside her so perfectly. Her body began to shake, threatening to double over, but he held her upright, forcing her into the orgasm more quickly. 

“Draco!” she cried as she came, the sound of it reverberating through the bathroom. 

The echoing sound of her pleasure made her blush. She’d gone from never saying his first name to whimpering it as she came apart on his fingers alone. 

“I don’t even have to ask you to say my name anymore,” he said before turning her around and catching her with a kiss. 

She pouted, which made him smile brightly. 

“Nothing to say?” he asked. “You didn’t even mean to do it, did you?” He bent his elbows and rolled his shoulders, making his pectorals flex with the motion. Hermione rolled her eyes, but she couldn't deny the fact that she really, truly had no excuse for it. 

“You’re a good fuck, okay? Don’t let it get to your head,” she told him. 

“Already has,” he replied, backing up to stand under the shower head. 

Draco let the water drench him, his hair plastering against his face. It turned more of a yellow-ish blonde when it was wet, and at its full length, the front pieces fell well past his eyebrows. Hermione only noticed these details because she was trying not to look down at his swinging cock, thank you very much . 

Once he’d rinsed all the sweat off, he sighed and shook his head like a dog that had just come in from the rain. Hermione squealed. 

“Stop! I don’t want to get my hair wet,” she pouted, holding her arms across her face as if to shield more water from coming her way. 

“That’s a shame,” he frowned. “I quite hoped to see what these curls looked like soaked .” 

He reached out and twirled a finger in her hair, pulling on a strand until it became straight. As he let go, he watched it bounce right back into place. 

When it was her turn with the shower head, Draco watched her as she lathered the soap across her bodyall over herself. She tried quite hard to not bend in any unflattering angles. 

This is what she had meant when she said too intimate. 

Showering together was far too domestic. 

“Can I help?” he asked, eyeing her up and down like he was starving and she was a three-course meal. 

“No,” she said firmly. “Shower time is sacred time. You’re lucky I’m letting you watch.” 

“I know,” he smirked. 

Hermione was quite relieved to be clean and finally cover herself up with a towel that Draco Accio’d from across the room. 

As they dressed, the thought of walking out to the buses made her stomach turn. 

“Erm, Malfoy,” she began. “Can I walk out with you? I’ll go straight to the bus but I-” 

“Are you afraid of my fans?” he asked. 

“A bit,” she admitted. 

He laughed. “That’s fine. We’ll take the walk of shame together,” he told her. 

“Thanks,” she said under her breath. 

Malfoy, in fact, did not let her run straight to the bus. Instead, he opened the door for her, in front of the watchful eyes of all the girls waiting for their moment with him. 

Clearly, he lived to torment her. 

The next morning, a knock on the door obliterated whatever hope Hermione had about keeping their ‘little situation’ out of the eyes of as many people on the tour as possible.

She stayed out of sight by  packing up her suitcase as Draco went to answer the door. When it opened, she heard Jonah’s voice more panicked than ever. 

“Draco, Sir, you’ve got to come see this!” he nearly shouted, like he couldn't control the volume of his voice. “It’s a fucking mess. I can’t even fucking say it out loud, you just have to see it for yourself, goddamnit!” 

“Okay, okay, I’m sure it’s fine. Just show me,” Malfoy replied, trying to reel the man in. 

“I can’t fucking believe this!” Jonah yelled down the hallway as the two of them walked away, the door closing behind them. “The police are here, they saw it before we did.” 

Hermione hesitated for a moment. The police? 

“Wait up!” she called, bolting out the door. 

Jonah spun around to look at her with just enough time to catch her leaving Malfoy’s hotel room. His eyes flickered between her and Draco a few times before he nodded and continued on to the elevators, cursing under his breath. 

She willed the heat in her cheeks to dissipate. ‘It’s not a big deal, it’s just sex,’ she reminded herself. 

Jonah spoke only to himself on the ride down and Hermione thought he might combust at any minute as he led them through the lobby and to the back of the building. But before he could say anything, she saw what had him in a panic. Her hand shot up to cover her mouth as she gasped. 

Their two tour buses sat parked in the hotel’s lot, both of the windshields completely shattered. A few of the tires were slashed and one of the front bumpers had completely come off, laying in two pieces just a foot away. 

Police vehicles lined the parking lot, along with the rest of Draco’s crew and several people Hermione had never seen before. 

Theo appeared at her side, taking a bored drag of his cigarette. 

“Who would do this?” she asked. 

He shrugged. “Some teenagers, the cops think. They got everyone.” With his chin, he motioned to the other cars in the lot. 

Sure enough, they’d all been messed with. Glass was strewn everywhere, some of the cars had their rearview mirrors hanging off, and a few even sat crooked, as if they’d been pushed into the cars in the spots beside them. 

“Apparently the police have been tracking these kids down for a few weeks now,” Theo told her, shaking his head in distaste. “They stole everyone’s loose cash and our weed. Bloody pricks.” 

It did bring some relief to know it wasn’t  some crazy fan that wanted to skin Malfoy alive, but still…it had happened so close to where they’d been sleeping. And now the buses were in no shape to bring them anywhere. 

Hermione and Theo hung back, assessing all the damage, while Draco spoke at length with Jonah. Finally, he rejoined them to share  the updated tour plan. 

“Well, the hotel is going to extend our stay for free,” he told them. “Replacement buses should be here today but closer to eleven or midnight. We’ll have to leave immediately when they arrive if we want to make the show in Amsterdam. Looks like I’ll be in one of those bland conference rooms for the day taking my interviews over the phone.” 

He sighed and plucked Theo’s cigarette out of his mouth, placing it between his own lips. Theo gave him an annoyed look, but picked a new cigarette out of his pocket anyway. 

“I might lose my mind being in an enclosed space with Jonah all day,” he continued. “What do you say we go to a bar later?” 

“I’m down. You paying?” Theo asked. 

“Yes, princess,” Draco rolled his eyes. “But I’m gonna start transfiguring your galleons into muggle money one of these days. Hermione?” 

“What?” she asked, still looking at the battered buses in a trance. “Oh, yeah, sure. I can do a bar.” 

“Great,” Malfoy said, in a way that didn’t sound great at all. “See you later. Give me strength.” 

“Don’t Crucio the guy!” Theo called after him, earning a profane hand signal from Draco over his shoulder.  

For the next few hours, Hermione helped the crew move all of their belongings from the buses into one of the guys’ hotel rooms. Honestly, she was happy to do so, because it meant cleaning out the mess that was Malfoy's bus. 

Once finished, she was happy to find that she had some off time and decided to head to Brandenburg Gate, where she picked up a latte and went for a stroll. She settled on a bench with a lovely view of the open square and incredible surrounding architecture, and gave Ginny a ring. 

“Hellooooooo ,” her friend answered happily. “So happy to know you haven’t forgotten about me while you hang out with your new famous friends.” 

“It’s called charity work, Ginevra,” Hermione teased. “How’s Crooks?” 

“An absolute delight.” 

“Really ?” 

“No,” Ginny told her. “Nearly scratched Harry’s entire hand off when he reached for his food bowl.” 

“He just misses his mum,” Hermione cooed. “Give him a kiss for me.”

“I actually value my face, so no thank you. How are things for you?” 

For whatever reason, Hermione was feeling particularly…good. Perhaps it was the latte or the gorgeous surroundings. Or perhaps it was hearing the voice of one of her best friends. 

Either way, she felt like telling Ginny everything. 

“Well, it’s a lot of men, to be honest. I miss the company of women, but I’ll survive. I mean, I lived in a tent with Harry and Ron for a while, for Merlin’s sake. But it’s also nice to have a change of scenery,” she told her. “I feel like I’ve been loosening up. Maybe being cooped up at the Ministry – hoarding my vacation days –  is not the best thing for me.” 

“I’ve been telling you this!” Ginny said, letting out a relieved sigh. “But… tell me about this loosening .” 

Hermione’s face scrunched up. 

“Why does it sound so disgusting when you say it?”

“Because I’m a married woman and I would like to hear about what a hot single woman gets up to on a rock and roll tour.” 

There was a pause as Hermione contemplated if and how much she really wanted to share.

“Well…” she began. 

“ Shut up!” Ginny gasped immediately. “I thought you were going to say nothing at all. What is it? Oh, please tell me now, Hermione!”

“It’s not a big deal!” she replied, feeling her cheeks grow hot. It was always like this with Ginny. She acted like Hermione was the Virgin Mary . “It’s just one of the guys on the tour. We’ve been hooking up. Nothing serious.” 

“Is it good?” 

“It’s incredible,” Hermione told her, biting her lip to stop herself from smiling, as if Ginny could see her through the phone.

“Is he big?” her friend asked. 

“Huge.”

Ginny squealed in her ear, the phone speaker vibrating against the side of her head. 

“I need to know more. How did it happen?” she asked. “Is he in the band? Oh! The drummer? I hope it’s the drummer.” 

“No, no, he’s just one of the crew. He does audio,” Hermione said quickly. “We just… since we’re in close proximity, we decided to make the best of it. But it's just sex, okay? I’m not coming home with a husband.” 

“Gods, I’m so happy for you,” Ginny told her. “I knew it! I knew one of those band guys would shag the uptightness out of you.” 

“ Ginny! ” 

“Sorry, sorry. I say it with love.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Hermione chuckled. 

The girls continued to talk for a while, catching up with each other on all fronts of life. Ginny told her about her Quidditch career, spewing out a bunch of technical terms that Hermione pretended to know. She put Harry on the phone, who filled Hermione in on the Ministry drama she’d been missing. For the most part, she was grateful to be free of all that bullshit. But her heart did ache to be in the office again, getting her hands dirty in some new legislation. 

Harry even told her that Ron was going on a date, but that he wouldn’t tell anyone who the girl was. He put the phone on speaker so Ginny could chime in on their speculation.

The sun began to set as she  talked to her friends, laughing and gossipping and feeling refreshed. 

She only noticed how much time had passed when her phone vibrated with a text from Theo. 

Bar time! 

She bid her friends goodbye, and hurried off to what was starting to feel like less and less of a second life.

They had picked a rowdy place with dim lights, horrible service, and a karaoke station. Malfoy smirked as they walked in, like it had been just the vibe he was going for. 

“What are you drinking, Granger?” he asked. 

“Surprise me,” she told him, finding the music and strobe lights far too distracting to make her own decision at the moment. 

He nodded and headed off to the bar with Tades as Hermione followed Theo and the others to a high-top table with stools. She looked around awkwardly as Theo leaned in close to Collin, engaging in a conversation with him that she couldn‘t even hope to hear.. Theo was chuckling between sentences as Collin used his hands to emphasize the story.

The other men at the table were all involved in their own private conversations, leaving Hermione to notice how horribly run-down this place must be with the lights on. Splintered wooden tables, peeling walls, and a karaoke screen that looked moments from failure. After such a rejuvenating conversation with her friends, she suddenly found herself…alone. 

She nearly sighed in relief when Malfoy came back with the drinks, sliding her stool closer to his.

“What’s this?” she asked, pointing at the light orange drink he set down in front of her. 

“House special,” he replied with a terribly cocky grin on his face. He tried to reign it in, the corners of his mouth twitching, but he lost that battle. “It’s called liquid panty dropper.” 

“ Malf- Draco,” she seethed, hitting him on the arm with the back of her hand. 

“ Ow!” he yelped. “I see. So you use my surname when you’re mad at me and my first name when you’re pleased.” 

“I’m always mad at you,” she said, rolling her eyes. She took a sip of the drink, which was quite tropical and had a very alcoholic aftertaste. 

“But sometimes you’re very pleased with me.”  

“Are you trying to make me the resident slut?” 

Draco furrowed his brow and frowned. 

“If anyone calls you that, I’ll have their head,” he said in a low tone. “I just like to brag about pretty things when they’re mine.” 

Hermione took to sipping her drink, hoping it would serve as a buffer against Malfoy’s antics. Or perhaps a buffer against the fact that his presence and warmth provided her the same relief Ginny and Harry’s voices had.Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the empty seat next to her, though Theo had been there mere seconds ago. 

She scanned the bar quickly, only to find him directly in the spotlight. 

“Oh, Merlin,” she muttered. 

“Hello, everybody,”  he said into the microphone, which squeaked gratingly. “Tonight I will be performing ‘Big Girls Don’t Cry’ by Fergie. Okay, here we go.” 

“The best part is, he’s entirely sober right now,” Draco said, lifting his beer to his mouth with a smile. 

Theo performed the song with all of the passion and drama of a Broadway artist. He moved around the tiny little wooden stage much like Malfoy would in one of his arenas, waving his arms in grand gestures and even sinking to floor for some of the slower parts, feigning being heart broken. 

“ You can hold my hand if you want to,” he sang, holding out his hand to Collin, who was recording the whole thing just a few feet away. “‘ Cause I wanna hold yours too!” 

He wasn’t terrible, really. He sounded pretty good for someone who was clearly taking the piss out of the whole situation. 

The bar clapped and whistled  when he was finished, and Theo took a few bows before hopping off the stage to hand the microphone to Collin, who announced he would be singing ‘Buy You A Drank’ by T-Pain. 

His performance was less savory than Theo’s, as he didn’t know any of the words despite the lyrics flashing across the large screen in front of his face.. He laughed through the entire thing, with Theo cheering him on.

“Sing it, Collin!” he shouted when there was a lull in the boy’s singing. 

Hermione laughed to herself. She wondered if Theo and Collin were a bit of a thing. They seemed to have good chemistry. But then, who didn’t Theodore Nott have good chemistry with? The smile on his face as he watched his friend sing terribly got her thinking. She took a swig of her highly offensive drink before leaning into Malfoy. 

“Hey, have you ever kissed a boy before?” she asked, figuring it was best to be direct in this situation. 

“Of course,” he replied quickly, keeping his eyes on the spectacle that was Collin and Theo. 

“Ever done more than that?” 

Draco turned to her now, his eyes slightly narrowed.

“Who’s asking?” 

“Me,” she said simply. 

“Yes.” 

“Was it Theo?” 

Malfoy cleared his throat and straightened out his posture. She was pleased to see that he only looked slightly flustered at her line of questioning. 

“Look, if you’re worried that there’s something between us –” Draco began. 

“I’m not,” she interjected quickly. “I was just curious.” 

“Listen, Granger, a lot happens on tour,” he shrugged. “Sex, drugs, rock and roll. That’s all it is.” 

“Of course,” she replied, covering up her smile by taking another swig of her drink. She knew plenty about what happens on tour, clearly.

Theo and Collin eventually rejoined the rest of them at the table, still laughing at their antics. Hermione overheard them planning to get wasted  and then do it all again to see how different the outcome would be. 

They never made it that far, unfortunately, as Draco received the text from Jonah that the new buses would arrive about thirty minutes earlier than expected. He paid the tab and waited for everyone to finish the last of their drinks before heading out into the suddenly chilly night. 

Hermione wished she’d brought a shawl of some kind, but the summer heat had been brutal during the day. None of the men could even offer her anything, as they also donned only t-shirts and tank tops. 

Theo seemed to still be in party mode, singing and shouting, regardless of the fact that he and Collin had fallen far behind the group as they trekked to the hotel.

“He’s been drinking since we were in Slytherin and he still has absolutely no idea how to hold his liquor,” Draco said. 

Hermione chuckled half-heartedly as she struggled against the breeze in her summer dress. He looked over at her and noticed, opening his mouth to say something when – 

“Back off, man!” Theo shouted from behind them. 

Draco turned around abruptly, his neck craned and his jaw sharp, like a deadly predator that  smelled nearby prey. He marched to where the altercation was happening, pushing Tades firmly out of the way in his effort. Hermione followed, trying to see over all the tall men’s heads. 

“What’s going on here?” Draco’s voice boomed over all the others. “Theo, what did this guy say to you?” 

“He called me a slur and then tried to charge at me, but he’s too fucking drunk to stand,” Theo replied. He had his fists balled at his sides, his knuckles white. He shook with anger, clearly trying to subdue it. Hermione rested a hand on his arm, but he didn’t look at her. “It’s fine, Draco, leave it.” 

Everyone spread out in his wake, backing away from each other. A man stood a few feet away from Theo, stumbling around on his feet drunkenly. He was just as tall as Theo, but far more muscular and sported a thick beard and mustache. He wore rugged clothes and had a terrible sunburn. It seemed he couldn’t even hold a regular stance for more than a few seconds. Hermione’s stomach dropped. This guy was dangerously intoxicated. 

“Who are you? ” The man asked, slurring his words violently. He brandished a beer bottle in his hand. “His boyfriend ?” 

“And if I was, what would you fucking do about it, huh?” Malfoy answered, his voice sending a chill down Hermione’s spine. His words were filled with venom.

“Stupid gay prat,” the man sputtered. 

It happened in a millisecond. The man swung, his hand in a loose fist as it hit Draco on the chest. Then there was a loud crack of Draco’s knuckles against the man’s face, sending him to the ground. 

Theo led Hermione away as the other crew members closed in around the fighting men and tried to pull Draco off of him. She struggled against Theo’s grasp, trying to see what was going on. The two men seemed to be intertwined on the hard concrete of the road, fists flying and legs flailing. 

It wasn’t long before they succeeded in getting Draco off the man, but as they walked him back in the direction of Hermione and Theo, she could see that he’d been beat up pretty badly. The skin beneath his right eye was bright red and there was blood running down his chin, both from his nose and a split lip. 

“Oh my God,” Hermione gasped, taking a few steps toward him. But Theo grabbed her arm again, pulling her in the direction of the hotel. 

“Come on, it’s best if we get out of here before this becomes anything more than it already is,” he told her. 

She nodded, but she couldn’t help but look back at Draco every few minutes. He seemed thoroughly out of it, his head lolling as Tades and Elijah held him by each of his arms.

They had picked a bar close to the hotel for the sole reason of getting back quickly once the buses arrived, but now it seemed miles away. She just wanted to heal his wounds as quickly as possible– make sure he was okay. 

When they finally arrived, Malfoy was ushered quickly onto his bus by his bandmates, two of whom Hermione still had yet to officially meet. Though, after her meeting with Elijah, she hadn’t been particularly inclined to mingle with anyone else. 

“What the hell happened?” Jonah’s voice boomed through the open door. 

Hermione hesitated at the entrance of her own bus, but stepped on nonetheless with a sinking feeling in her chest. There were no wizards on Malfoy’s bus. They’d probably patch him up poorly with some band-aids. 

“What are you doing?” Theo asked, throwing himself into his bunk. “Go with him.” 

“But- are you okay?” she asked, reaching her hand out. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he sighed, squeezing her palm with his. Hermione wasn’t convinced, but Theo rested his head against his pillow, looking up at the top of his bunk with an expression that told her he didn’t really want to talk. “He’s got a busted face now because of me. I’m definitely getting demoted.” 

Hermione tried for a laugh, but she knew this tactic all too well; an attempt to cover up the truth with a joke. She decided it was best to leave him be. 

“You sure you’re okay if I go on the other bus?” she asked for good measure. Theo nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

He gave her the tiniest fraction of a smile before she hurried to Malfoy. 

Jonah was leaning into Malfoy’s top bunk, his shaky hands opening a first aid kit. 

“Let me,” Hermione said softly, taking the little box from him. Jonah nodded. 

“Best have a lady's hands tend to wounds,” he said before sauntering away. 

The band members watched her from their respective bunks as she used the little foot ladder to climb into Malfoy’s, closing the privacy curtain behind her. 

The space was definitely not created for two people to share, but being this close was far from foreign territory. 

“You okay?” she asked. 

“My pretty face is all fucked up,” he sighed through his swollen lip. 

“I don’t know. If your bottom lip didn’t look like a marshmallow, I’d be pretty hot for you right now,” she told him with a smile. 

Hermione pulled her wand out of her bag and began healing his various wounds. With the blood Scourgified she was able to see the cut more clearly. It was much deeper than she’d anticipated and extended to the tip of his chin. She cringed at the sight of the loose skin. If she hadn’t studied her healing spells so diligently, he’d need stitches.

“That bad?” he asked. 

“What happened here?” 

“He hit me with his fucking beer bottle after it broke in half,” Malfoy told her, more blood coming from the cut with each word. 

“God, it could get infected then,” she sighed. “No more talking for now.” 

She continued to cast healing spells on him, trying to  properly sanitize and close up the wounds. Her neck and knees began to ache from the way she was kneeling over him in the tiny bunk, but she worked slowly and carefully. When his lip was considerably smaller, she moved onto his nose and eye. 

“I can’t heal these completely,” she told him. “They would bruise without spells so it would be suspicious if I stopped it. But I can make them less painful. Is that okay?” 

He nodded, his eyes fluttering closed. 

When she finished with the healing, she sat back and assessed the results. It certainly looked much better than it would have if she'd used the muggle first-aid kit, but there were still enough remnants of the fight to convince the others that she was just a really careful and attentive nurse. 

His alabaster skin was tinted pink where he’d been injured and with his eyes closed, he still looked in pain. However, Hermione knew this wasn’t from the wounds. They’d shared a bed enough times for her to know this was his resting face. Never at peace. 

Her heart broke a little, thinking about that little boy from Hogwarts. Hemrione still had nightmares about the war from time to time, but found that she slept well again all these years later. But Malfoy… he seemed to have so many ghosts, they were imprinted on his face when he wasn’t actively hiding them with a smirk. 

That stupid, drunk man… Rage filled her as she thought about him insulting Theo and instigating the fight with Draco. She wanted to go back and spit on him for good measure. 

Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott had been through quite enough in their lifetimes. Anyone who wanted to add to that in a world that was supposed to be their escape deserved nothing but ill wishes. 

“Are you just going to stare at me while I sleep?” Malfoy asked, bringing her back to Earth. 

“Isn’t it weird if I sleep here?” 

“No,” he said simply, pushing himself against the wall of the bunk to make room for her next to him. 

She laid down with her back to his chest, his arm draping over the front of her neck to rest on her shoulder. Perhaps it was the warmth from his grasp or the excitement of the night’s events, but exhaustion swept over her immediately. She fell asleep to the soft hum of the bus’ engine. 

When she awoke, Malfoy was still dead asleep.

She’d lost all feeling in her arm, having laid on it for so long, but she wasn’t able to move. His hand kept her pinned in place, weighing her down  in his slumber. For a while, she simply stared at the bunk’s privacy curtain, feeling his chest rise and fall on her back, while chatter came from the rest of the bus. 

When he finally stirred, he slipped his arm out from under her, allowing her to turn and face him. 

He blinked his eyes open slowly, still tinted pink from the fight. 

“Hi,” he rasped.

“How do you feel?” she asked. 

“Fine. I’d feel a lot worse if it hadn’t been for your healing.” 

Hermione placed a hand flat on his chest, feeling a bit of dried blood in his t-shirt. She hadn’t noticed it before– she’d been too concerned about the crime scene on his face. Then she trailed her thumb across the cut on his lip, following it down to his chin. It was perfectly sealed, looking like nothing more than a scar. 

“You might have needed stitches,” she told him. “But this should go away. You can barely see it as it is.” 

Draco let the corners of his mouth curl up into a small smile. 

“Then I have you to thank for single handedly saving my career,” he jested. “I wouldn’t be selling out arenas if I wasn’t so shag-worthy.” 

“You know nothing about women,” she said, rolling her eyes. “We love bloody, beat-up, scarred men.” 

Hermione was already pressed up against him, but Draco pulled her down completely, locking his arms around her back and kissing her. 

He kissed like he hadn’t just gotten his lip entirely busted open; taking advantage of Hermione’s well-executed magic and completely going to war with her mouth. She let herself dissolve into him, pressing all of her weight down onto him and giving up control. She slid off of his chest to his side, where he turned to kiss her more deeply. His tongue shot between her teeth with so much passion, she feared he might accidentally knock her out of the bunk. 

She pulled away for safety reasons, and he scooted himself back farther against the wall. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he said firmly. 

“It’s not a big deal–” 

“No, let me return the favor. Okay?” 

Hermione knew damn well by this point what Draco Mafloy’s idea of ‘taking care’ of her was. Her stomach dropped in anticipation, and she nodded. 

His mouth was on her again, this time peppering kisses across her jawline and down her neck, stopping to suck on her pulse point. His hand wandered up her stomach, grabbing at her breasts with greed. He kissed her everywhere he could manage, slowly rotating her so that she was facing away from him again. His right hand found it’s prior resting place  on her shoulder, while his left arm snaked around her hips and hitched up her dress. 

He began rubbing her through her knickers, and she spread her legs wider to entice him in. Her cunt was twitching immediately, as if it had been waiting for him all night. When she felt her knickers entirely soak through, he took the hint and pulled them down her legs.. 

Draco’s mouth was hot on her back, placing kisses on every inch of her with soft, now-scarred lips. Hermione’s breath hitched as he slipped a long finger inside of her and pumped it slowly. He added another when she began to wriggle beneath his grasp; asking for more.

She let her eyes flutter closed, focusing on the sweet sensation of his fingers inside of her, the pad of his thumb working her clit in a circle. Her hands grasped onto his strong arm around her chest and she pressed her arse against the hardness in his trousers. They felt like they would tear at the seams with the sheer size of his erection. She had to bite her lip to stop from whimpering. 

His fingers left her and her eyes flew open. She had expected him to finger her to an orgasm. Perhaps there were too many people on the bus who could hear. After all, he hadn’t let her finish when it was only Theo outside the door. 

But then she watched as he lifted his hand, his fingers dripping with her arousal, and brought them up to his face. She couldn't see him, but she heard his lips close around his digits and suck off what remained of her. A quiet grunt came from deep within him. 

Hermione’s mind raced in the blur of the next moments.. His hand was behind her arse, and she felt his knuckles dig into her as he unzipped his trousers and pulled them down. She jerked with pleasure at the feeling of his long cock touching her bare arse, already slick with precum. 

“Malfoy-” she began, warningly. 

“ Shhhh,” he said directly in her ear, sending a violent shiver down her spine. 

Her eyes widened as she felt his tip at her entrance, slowly pushing his way in. He intended to shag her right here in the bunk. This tiny bed with nothing more than a small piece of cloth between them and the rest of his band members and crewmates who were currently awake and wandering around the vehicle. 

The sensation of his overwhelming length splitting her in half got her every single time. A whine escaped her throat, much louder than she had expected.

Draco’s hand moved quickly from her shoulder and clamped over her mouth instead. It was so large in comparison to her face, and she relished the feeling of the constraint around her. 

He began to thrust into her and she reached behind her to wrap her arm around him. If she didn’t have something to sink her nails into, she was either going to go tumbling out of this bunk or scream for everyone to hear. 

“You can keep quiet, can’t you?” Draco asked in a whisper. He nibbled on her ear, pulling on the lobe. “Just this once?” 

The entire scene had turned her on so much; the large hand across her mouth, the sound of his voice deep and aroused, the feeling of his cock pounding into her while other people were only mere feet away. She was going to finish hard and fast. 

Draco only added fuel to that fire, his free hand finding her clit again. 

It was almost too much. 

He was taking care of her– hitting every spot in a way she’d only ever read about in her dirty books. Her mouth parted beneath his hand, drooling onto his fingers, as she felt that blissful build-up overcome her. 

Her skin set aflame and her body jerked violently, the orgasm threatening to ruin her. Malfoy removed his fingers from her clit and instead grabbed one of her thighs, holding it down as the overwhelming sensation finished wracking through her body. 

Her breaths were harsh and loud as she did her best not to scream.

“That’s it,” he purred. “So good for me.” 

She felt his fingers twitch against her face as he emptied himself inside of her. He filled her up completely, staying inside her as he came down from his own orgasm. 

When he removed his hand from her mouth, it was absolutely coated in her spit. 

They only laid there for what felt like a few minutes before the bus came to a stop. 

“Here we are,” Hermione heard the bus driver announce from the front of the vehicle. “Amsterdam!” 

They hurriedly put their undergarments back on. 

It was straight to the venue for everyone; no hotel tonight, as they’d be leaving for Zurich immediately after the show. 

As the crew loaded in and everyone rushed around to get ready for sound check, Hermione did laps around the arena looking for Theo. 

He was nowhere to be found in the crew lounge, the greenroom, the merch stand, or even the sound booth. The buses had gone to get petrol after everyone had disembarked, so that wasn’t an option either. 

Hermione felt like a chicken without its head, running around without her tour-buddy. 

When she finally gave up, she parked herself in the greenroom and continued editing her pictures.

Every time the door opened, her head shot up, hoping her eyes would land on a tall boy with curly brown hair. But each time, she was left disappointed, forcing a smile at one of Maldfoy’s various crew members. 

Finally, she nearly smacked herself on the head, remembering her mobile existed. She shot him a text and left the phone next to her knee on the couch, waiting for it to light up. It didn’t. 

Hermione distracted herself with editing for so long, she didn’t even realize the time until she heard Malfoy’s opening song. Quickly packing up her things, she hurried to sidestage, taking up her normal spot.. Her heart dropped a little when Theo wasn’t there either. 

Even Malfoy noticed, which confirmed her inkling that something was definitely wrong. There wasn’t much that had the ability to take Draco out of his onstage persona. 

It happened when a fan threw her bra on stage, which Malfoy caught in one hand. He smiled and winked at the fan, which Hermione would have made him pay for if she hadn’t been so concerned with other things. Then he turned to sidestag with a devilishly smug look on his face, flinging the bra right to Hermione, pointing to her afterward. She had no energy to even grimace at him, and that made him falter. His eyes flickered to the empty space next to her, still singing, and when he met her eyes again, his brows furrowed. 

Where’s Theo? 

She shrugged in response. 

Eventually, the not knowing became too much for her. She left before Malfoy’s set was over, hurrying to the buses. She held her breath as she entered, treading down the long walkways to the bunks. Theo had the curtain pulled to cover it up.  

“Theo?” she asked, standing tentatively to the side. 

A long moment passed before the curtain was pulled back, revealing a lounging Theo behind it. Hermione let out a relieved breath. 

“ Gods,” she sighed. “Where have you been? I’ve been so worried.” 

“I just didn’t want to be around everyone today,” he told her. 

She took a seat on her own bunk. 

“Want to talk about it?” she asked. 

His eyes flickered toward the bus door. 

“Not right now, okay? When we get to Zurich,” he said. “The guys are going out again to this place they like there. Girl’s night?” 

Hermione gave a small smile. 

“Girl’s night.”

Chapter Text

Hermione’s sleep on the bus had been less than savoury. 

Though being pressed up against Malfoy wasn’t something to complain about, she was feeling exhausted by the time she walked into the hotel lobby in Zurich. To her misfortune, they had arrived too early for check-in, and apparently being a rockstar wasn’t everything, as the hotel staff wouldn’t accommodate Draco. 

Luckily for him, he had interviews and magazine shoots to attend, so he got out of waiting in the lobby with everyone else. He left his bags with Theo, who he spoke quietly with for a moment before exchanging a hug with. 

“What was that about?” Hermione asked, mid-yawn. 

“Just thanking him for sticking up for me,” Theo responded. “And telling him to never do it again.”

“Never stick up for you again?” 

Theo chuckled.

“Yes, it’s emasculating,” he said sarcastically. “He used to love getting into fist fights with people after we left Hogwarts, but before we left the Wizarding World. It was always someone who said something about me being scum like my father. We never caught a break and he was always fighting back. He can be reckless. I don’t want him to be fucking up his pretty little face on my behalf again.” 

“He’s a good friend,” Hermione said quietly. 

“Always has been,” Theo agreed. 

She watched through the lobby entrance as Malfoy’s bus pulled away from the lot. Back in school, she would have never imagined Draco Malfoy caring about someone enough to put himself in harm’s way for them. But then, she’d never really known him like that. He’d certainly had what appeared to be friends– Pansy, Theo, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle. But his harshness towards the Gryffindors had made her believe that perhaps those relationships were just obligatory. It was weird to think that everyone had their own lives beyond what they portrayed to the rest of the world. 

A shadow overcame Hermione while she was lost in her thoughts. Literally. Jonah stepped in front of her, cutting off her view of the hotel’s sunlit entrance.  

“Guys, the hotel is letting us do brunch at the restaurant while we wait for our rooms,” he said. 

Theo and Hermione rose to follow him, exchanging exhausted looks with each other. 

It was another meal filled with stories, told in Jonah’s booming voice, some of which Hermione had heard before. She assumed that meant Theo had heard them all several times over. 

To kill time, they stayed in the restaurant even after they were done eating. The conversation changed to sports teams and ancient rock bands. Even with all the ruckus, it was hard to keep her head from drooping, and she drifted in and out of the early stages of sleep. 

Eventually, she awoke to Theo shaking her arm. 

“Come on, meal’s over, room’s ready,” he told her. “Someone needs a nap.” 

“Thank Merlin,” Hermione muttered. 

She let Theo walk her to her room, which was wonderfully cooled. Perfect for curling up and sleeping. 

“See you later?” Theo asked. “My door’s open.” 

She mumbled affirmatively, face planting into the bed and sinking into it. 

It wasn’t too horrible, she supposed. 

Hermione’s sleep schedule was completely wrecked, but she had lasted about ten tour dates before feeling the effects of it. 

When she woke up, she was shocked to see that it was dark out, and Malfoy had returned. 

He emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a half-buttoned shirt and tight jeans. 

“Good morning,” he said, adjusting the chain around his neck. As he crossed the room, he carried the scent of a woodsy cologne with him 

Hermione squinted at him with sleep-ladden eyes. 

“Are you going to the strip club?” she asked. “Theo said you were going out.” 

He grinned as he pulled a wallet and phone out of his suitcase and shoved them in his pockets. 

“No, just the bar,” he replied. “I trust I can have my own private show later?” 

She threw him a look, trying to stifle the smile  growing on her face. 

“I’ll think about it,” she told him. “You’re going to the bar again?” 

“I think I deserve a night out that doesn’t include getting slashed in the face with a broken beer bottle. Would you like to join?” 

“That’s fair,” Hermione admitted. “But, no, I’lll stay. I have business with Theo.” 

“Oh?” 

Hermione shifted on the bed, considering whether or not she should mention what she was thinking. In the end, Draco was Theo’s friend. It couldn’t hurt. 

“Haven’t you noticed?” she asked. “He’s been weird recently. I mean, even before the fight ordeal in Berlin. Quiet… almost paranoid?” 

Draco frowned. 

“I hadn’t noticed, actually,” he said honestly. “I’ve been running around so much. I barely see him.”

“Do you usually?” 

“Well, usually you’re not here,” Malfoy told her. “So yes, we’d be sharing a room together. But I had been seeing him a lot less even before you showed up. I don’t know; he likes to be solitary sometimes.” 

Hermione’s shoulders dropped as she let out a sharp breath through her nose. She hoped  this hadn’t been her doing. 

“Well, I’ll find out,” she said. 

“You always do,” he said, with a hint of amusement in his voice. Then he strode over to the bed she was sitting on and planted his lips on hers. 

The smell of his cologne filled her nose entirely and she thought she’d quite like to lick it off him. His kiss was sensual and slow, making her stomach drop straight down, alighting her clit immediately. The way he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled away…

“Consider that show for me later, yeah?” 

Hermione felt her face flush. 

“Yeah,” she said quietly, watching him leave the room. 

It took her far too long to will herself off the bed after he left. When she did, she almost died from embarrassment at her post-nap hair in the mirror, knotted and sticking out in every direction. She desperately needed to change clothes,and she knew she definitely did not smell as good as Malfoy had. Humiliating. 

She shook the thought from her head as she got dressed and brushed her hair. She didn’t need to look nice for Malfoy. He wasn’t her boyfriend or anything of the sort. She’d look better when he got back, they’d shag, and all would be fine. 

Regardless, she made sure to look acceptable at the least before heading to Theo’s room. 

He welcomed her silently, which was unlike him. She could tell by the look on his face that he actually was desperate to tell her what was going on. Tell someone.

Hermione took a seat in the vanity chair, her back stiff. 

“You okay?” she asked, holding her breath. 

“Yeah. I mean…It’s nothing crazy. The past few days have just messed with my head. Being on the road really sucks sometimes,” Theo told her with a sigh. He sat on the edge of his bed with slumped shoulders. “I just want to go home and play Quidditch in my backyard.” 

“I know,” Hermione said softly. “Not about the Quidditch, but the travelling. It’s hard.”

Theo dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his face firmly.

“It’s almost embarrassing to say,” he continued. 

Hermione felt a pit in her stomach. Gods, was he about to make her fears realised? Had she joined this tour and hopped right between two best friends, pushing them apart? It had not been her intention to become the Slytherin homewrecker. 

“What is?” she managed to get out. 

He looked back up at her and laughed half-heartedly. 

“Believe it or not, a lot of these rock and roll guys are still so weird about sexuality. Sexuality that… isn’t theirs,” Theo told her. “I was never looking for a boyfriend– far from it. I don’t even think I could date a muggle, to be honest. But you know… what you and Draco have going on… that would be nice.” 

Hermione nodded, trying to keep the dread at bay. 

“So, I was thrilled when I found out Collin was up for it. He was curious, I guess. I was happy to let him experiment on me, I don’t mind,” he continued. “He’s cute, he’s nice, he was very much into me– it was great. He was hot and cold though, which was pissing me off, to be honest. Either we were friends when everyone else was around or he wouldn't even look in my direction. But last night… this morning–  whenever it was– when that guy started insulting me and using gay slurs and everything, he just dipped. Didn’t say a word, didn’t try to protect me. He just walked away like he wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. I don’t know. I just thought he was a better person than that.” 

She had seen so many expressions on Theo during this tour. Elation, mischievousness, even anger… but never this. He looked so down-trodden; like a kicked puppy. It broke her heart. 

“I’m sorry, Theo,” she said, barely above a whisper. “ I can’t imagine… I don’t even know what to say that won’t sound painfully cliche, to be honest.” 

“It’s fine,” he said, shaking his head quickly. “I’m not really upset about him. We weren't dating or anything. I don’t get attached too easily, especially when someone’s not comfortable enough to be out of the closet, because that’s just trouble. But I knew him for a while and I had no idea he was an absolute prick like this. Sometimes the homophobia of the scene continues to surprise me and it sucks.” 

Hermione nodded. 

“So, you won't talk to him anymore?” she asked. 

“Definitely not. Not worth my time.” 

“Have you told Draco?” 

“Gods, no,” Theo scoffed. “Did you see the way he was so quick to make a scene? He’d go to war and it would be humiliating. It was just a couple of shags. I don’t want him to make a big deal.” 

“I think he’ll understand if you ask him not to do anything,” Hermione told him. “But he should know. Like you said, he likes to have like-minded people on the team. At the very least, Collin won’t be rehired for the next tour.” 

Theo groaned. 

“Theo! Don’t sacrifice yourself for some little weakling idiot who didn’t deserve your cock in the first place! Draco wants what’s best for you.” 

“Are you ever wrong?” he asked, looking at Hermione through the corner of his eyes.

“Never,” she said with a smile. 

“Fine, I’ll tell him, okay?” Theo told her, matching her expression with a smile of his own. “Now let’s watch a trashy muggle movie, please?” 

Hermione agreed, moving from the little hotel desk chair and onto the bed with Theo as he turned on the TV. A thought was still bugging her. 

“I have to be honest,” she began. “I was really worried. I thought you’d been acting weird because of me. I thought maybe… I’d gotten in between you and Malfoy.”  

The way Theo immediately shook his head and furrowed his brow like that was the most ridiculous idea in the world put her at ease. 

“Nothing like that,” he told her. “Draco and I are inseparable. Trauma-bonding or whatever. This arrangement worked out for me quite well, actually. I didn’t have to listen to him wank in the shower and I got my own room so I could easily shag Collin. Though, I guess the latter doesn’t apply anymore.” 

“You could hear him wank in the shower?” Hermione asked, unable to resist the smile on her face. 

“There are no boundaries between us, really,” Theo laughed, flipping through the hotel’s movie options. 

In the meantime, Hermione picked up her mobile and shot a quick text to Malfoy. 

Come to Theo’s room when you’re back. 

He answers surprisingly quickly, considering he was out at a bar. 

Everything okay? 

Yes, just don’t get too drunk, she texted back. 

Yes, ma’am. 

She rolled her eyes at his last message. 

Theo decided on Failure to Launch as their crappy movie choice of the night, but Hermione suspected that he was actually a big fan of muggle rom-coms, as they never seemed to watch anything else. They ordered room service and, like before, talked through the whole movie, giving their commentary and critiques. 

“Why are the people in romantic comedies always insane?” Theo asked. 

Hermione shrugged. 

“Because people are insane,” she decided. 

When it was over, Theo started it from the beginning,  pointing out things he would have done differently if he was one of the main characters, and berating the stupid decisions that had led to all of the miscommunications. 

Hermione laughed as she listened to how fired up and passionate he got about it all. 

“But did you enjoy the movie?” she asked. 

“Of course,” he replied. “I love drama that’s not my own.” 

“So, that’s the point,” Hermione told him. “It wouldn't be any fun if they just got together and were happy about it.” 

Theo considered this for a bit before asking her for a list of her favourite annoying muggle romance movies. She was rattling them off and giving short summaries of them when she received a text from Drcao. 

Coming back now.  

“Hey, I told Malfoy to come here, alright? So you can tell him everything and I can reel him in if I need to.” 

Theo gave her an impressed look. 

“Dragon tamer, huh?” he asked. “Well, as his best friend, I am obligated to say that if you hurt him, I will unfortunately have to hex you.” 

“Oh, please, I’m not gonna hurt him,” Hermione scoffed. “His ego is so thick you couldn’t cut it with a knife.” 

But Theo said nothing more on the matter, and her thoughts drifted to the discovery she’d made about Malfoy a few days prior. Sensitive. 

It wasn’t long before there was a knock on the door and a slightly buzzed Draco entered the room, looking hardly less perfect than he had before. Perhaps only a hair or two out of place. 

“Have fun?” Theo asked. 

Draco shrugged and threw himself down on the bed between him and Hermione. 

“I still can't figure out those muggle drinking games,” he sighed. “Elijah pummelled me and now he’s picking the setlist for tomorrow. He’s going to make me play that one song with the high note.” 

“Just charm your voice, don’t be a baby,” Theo told him. 

“No, no, I would like to hear the high note without magic,” Hermione chimed in. 

“It’s not as pretty as yours, love,” Draco said. She smacked him on the stomach. “What have you guys been up to?” he asked. 

Hermione exchanged a glance with Theo, who was looking towards her for support. She gave him a small nod. He took a deep breath, then began. 

Malfoy listened to every word his friend said and remained silent. But Hermione saw the way his fists balled up, grasping the covers in his strong grip. When Theo was done with his story, Draco spoke immediately.

“I’m gonna kill that guy.” 

“ No, ” Theo said firmly. “Did you hear anything I just said? I don’t want you to do anything about it. I still have to share a bus with him, don’t make it weird.” 

“I’m going to punch him in the face for sure,” Draco said quietly, as if he really hadn’t heard Theo at all. He was blinded by rage– not listening in the slightest. 

“Malfoy,” Hermione sighed. 

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Theo said with exhaustion. 

Draco’s jaw flexed. He was grinding his teeth inside his mouth. Hermione was impressed and a tad bit frightened by how quickly he became angry when it came to Theo’s well-being. But after surviving turbulent families and a war together, she supposed it made sense. 

“Fine,” he said through his teeth. “But you say the word and I’ll knock his teeth out, okay?” 

“Thank you, Draco,” Theo sighed. 

The blonde nodded before letting out a huge yawn. 

“You staying here, Granger?” he asked. “I need to sleep.” 

Hermione looked at the clock. It was past midnight but she was feeling wide awake from her extra long nap. 

“I guess we should go,” she sighed.  

*******************************

As they began to rise, Theo stuck his fist out and Malfoy bumped it with his own, making Hermione cringe. 

“Oh God, what was that?” she asked. 

The boys looked over at her. 

“What?” Malfoy asked. 

She looked between them, both surprised and annoyed to see the genuine obliviousness on their faces. Draco sat down again, awaiting her explanation. 

“I mean, come on,” she laughed nervously. “I know you guys have hooked up before. A fist bump? So weird.” 

Malfoy and Theo exchanged looks, their eyebrows raised. 

“I didn’t tell her,” Theo said, holding his hands up defensively. 

“She asked,” Draco sighed. 

Something about the way they were looking at each other sent goosebumps up her skin. They must be replaying memories of their night– or nights– together right now. Two extremely attractive, tall, strong men…

Hermione resumed her seat and slid her leg over Malfoy’s lap seductively, rubbing her foot over his thigh with a smirk. 

“So you have a thing for curly brunettes, do you?” she asked. 

This made Theo break out into a laugh, which earned him a shove on the head from Draco.

Hermione trailed her hand up his abdomen, leaving it to rest on his chest where his shirt remained unbuttoned. 

“Ever had two at once?” she whispered. 

Malfoy’s eyes shot up to meet hers, filled with both shock and intrigue. Theo whistled. 

“Did I consent to this?” Theo asked. But the look on his face was one of amusement. Sinfully mischievous. 

Hermione looked at him expectantly. 

“Well? You said you were living vicariously through me, did you not? Now’s your chance,” she said, before turning to Draco. “I know you don’t share, but… I don’t mind. Theo doesn’t want me anyway.” 

“As much as I am very titillated by this idea, your highness,” Theo chimed in. “I want it to be known that I am not in need of a rebound. If we do this, it’s because we all want to.” 

“It’s not a rebound,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “You were too good for Collin. You did him a favour, really, and he repaid you with what? Being an arsehole? Draco is your friend. He’d do anything for you. And he knows how to take care of people really well.”

She turned to Malfoy now, biting her lip. Her leg shifted so that it brushed against his groin. He was hard. 

“Don’t you, Draco?” she asked softly. 

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. He simply looked over at Theo, awaiting his response. Hermione wondered if Theo knew his eyes as well as she did. The black pool in the middle of that icy blue meant he was ready to unleash absolute ecstasy on his target.

Theo smiled devilishly. There was another look she hadn’t seen on his face before: lust. 

“You know what I’m gonna say, Draco. I’ve been dying to repay you for last time,” he said. 

Malfoy turned back to Hermione, sinking into the bed further, like he was stuck between two vices.

“Really? Will it get you off?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she replied quickly. “You?” 

“I mean, I think that makes me the star of the show,” he said with a strained laugh. Hermione knew that laugh; he was basically bursting in his trousers. “Obviously it would get me off. A lot, yes.” 

“Aw, Theo, he’s nervous,” Hermione teased, pushing her hand further up Malfoy’s chest and letting it sit by his throat. 

“We said we wouldn’t do this again, Theo,” Draco breathed. 

“I know,” Theo shrugged. “Your girl can be very convincing.”

“She’s not my girl. You’ll get me in trouble for that one.”

Hermione placed an open mouthed kiss on Draco’s jawline. 

“You know in the bedroom I’m all yours,” she said against his skin. “Kiss him.” 

There was a low growl somewhere deep within Malfoy’s throat. He turned to Theo abruptly. 

“You heard my lady, then,” he exhaled, closing the space between them. 

Hermione watched as Draco met his match, Theo immediately sticking his hands in his hair and tugging on his blonde locks. She knew the touch wasn’t gentle by the way Malfoy’s head jerked. Malfoy groaned into Theo’s mouth. 

She took the opportunity to straddle Draco’s lap and he placed one hand around her throat while his other gripped the collar of Theo’s shirt. Hermione caught a flash of Malfoy’s piercing as his tongue darted into the other boy’s mouth. They only broke away to gasp for air, and Draco turned   his blue eyes to  her. 

Draco kissed her next, shoving the foreign taste of Theo into her mouth. His hands remained in place– one on each of them– and she relished the feel of his palm squeezing around her neck. She began to slowly grind her aching clit against his erection, and she felt Theo slide closer on the bed. 

Hermione pulled away to look at him with intrigue– a silent question. He answered by leaning into her. She kissed Theo as relentlessly as she did Draco, lapping the inside of his mouth with her tongue and nipping at his lips. Malfoy’s hands had shifted, one of them now resting on her hip, where he gently rocked her back and forth on his lap. Hermione held onto him with one arm around his neck, her other hand pulling at the hairs on the nape of Theo’s neck. He faltered, unable to keep up.   

“Too much?” she asked, pulling away. 

Theo just laughed. 

“Now I understand why you guys never stop,” he said. 

Hermione’s eyes trailed downwards, where she found Malfoy’s hand resting over Theo’s bulge. 

“Want to show him how you take my cock in your mouth?” Draco asked. “He could barely get it in his last time.” 

She smirked, sliding off his lap and onto her knees beside the bed. As she undid his trousers, he began to unzip Theo’s. A thrill ran through her as his red, swollen head bobbed out towards her once she’d yanked his pants down. He was already leaking. 

Hermione readied his cock for her mouth by trailing her tongue across it from base to tip. She let a string of spit drip out of her lips and spread it sloppily before taking him as deep as she could. An overwhelming heat overcame her as she bobbed her head up and down, tasting his salty precum on her tongue. 

She looked up to find Draco’s hand around Theo’s length, pumping him in tandem with the tempo she was setting for them. Theo watched Hermione through heavy lids. 

“ Fuck, ” he breathed. 

She gave pleading eyes to Draco as she continued sucking him, waiting patiently for her turn to have his attention again. When he finally looked back at her, he knew what she wanted. He took a fistful of her hair and began pushing her head down on him faster. His tip hit the back of her throat and she gagged, holding onto his thighs for support. She clenched her eyes shut, taking him for as long as he wanted. When he released his grip, she gasped for air, leaving a string of saliva between her mouth and his cock. 

“Jesus,” Theo said, looking from Hermione to Draco. “Can you take me like that?” 

They switched spots; Hermione sitting beside Theo on the bed and Draco getting to his knees between the other boy’s legs. 

It was an entirely new experience watching Malfoy pleasure someone from an outside perspective. Hermione watched as he parted his kiss-stained lips, wrapped them around Theo’s cock, and closed his eyes as he took the whole thing in, taking his time to breath through his nose like he was trying to inhale Theo. 

She needed something to occupy herself with instead of squeezing her thighs together, so she stuck her hand in Draco’s hair, making his eyes flutter open and roll back into his skull. 

Theo was grunting as Draco took his full length at a slow pace. 

“Fuck his face,” Hermione urged quietly. “Show him what it feels like.”

The boys exchanged glances, Draco’s cheeks still hollowed out around Theo. He nodded in consent, so Theo began to buck his hips into Malfoy’s face. Hermione helped, bobbing his head up and down with the grip she had in his hair. Draco’s throat began making those indecent sounds that Hermione’s always made when she gave him head. And for some reason, it made her smirk. 

Draco finally pulled away with a gasp. 

“ Fuck,” Theo said again, breathless. “Let me fuck you.” 

He quickly rid himself of his shirt before tearing Draco’s off, with the sound of a popped button hitting the ground. When Malfoy rose to his feet, Theo wasted no time pulling his trousers and pants to the ground. 

“Knickers off, Granger,” Draco demanded, crawling onto the bed.  

She scrambled to remove her own trousers and knickers, desperate for something to relieve her clit of its screaming. He was on top of her immediately, sliding his hands roughly under her shirt and pawing at her breasts. As Theo kneeled behind him on the bed, his face disappeared into Draco’s arse, pushing him forward so his mouth could lick up Hermione’s sternum. 

“Off. Get it off,” he told her, stuttering. Whatever Theo was doing to him, it was taking his breath away. 

Hermione removed her own shirt, letting Malfoy rest his entire weight on her and lick lazily at her nipples. His body surged forward again, and he bit down on the side of her breast, making her cry out. 

“Draco, please,” Hermione squeaked, raising her hips against his body. 

“It’s only two fingers, Draco,” Theo said, emerging from where he’d been buried in his arse.
“Be a man and eat your girlfriend’s cunt.” 

Malfoy obliged, pushing Hermione further up the bed to access her cunt. He planted his face there, wasting no time in pressing his tongue piercing against her most sensitive bundle of nerves. Hermione cried out, both relieved and overwhelmed by the feeling. She watched through a haze as Theo pumped his arm back and forth, his eyes on the back of Draco’s head with satisfaction. 

“Ready for me?” he asked. 

Malfoy moaned directly into Hermione’s cunt in response, and she felt him absolutely melt as Theo pushed into him. 

Theo let out a sharp gasp, pausing inside for a moment before starting to thrust. Hermione was serving as Draco’s safety blanket, made apparent by his painful grip on her thighs and his unrelenting mouth. He was impaling her with his tongue and digging his face as far into her cunt as he could manage. She got the residual effects from the rocking back and forth from the boys and she leaned into it by rolling her own hips into Draco’s face. 

Hermione drank in the sight before her– her legs draped over Draco’s shoulders, his back flexed and rippling with muscles as he arched into the mattress, his hair in his eyes, his face buried in her cunt. And there was Theo behind him, his hair messy and flopping as he thrusted into Draco, sweat rolling down his abs. 

She had never really believed in Divination, but she wondered if even the greatest of seers would  have seen this coming. Two men who used to be House Slytherin sharing a bed with her. Two men she had beaten for top of the class over and over again, fueling their hatred for her. One, her childhood bully. The other, nearly a stranger, but with a chillingly dark family tree. And little muggle-born Hermione Granger, writhing in pleasure beneath them both.

Theo caught her looking and smiled. 

“Thanks for sharing, Granger,” he said, holding one hand out. 

She meant to high five him, but instead, she was overcome with the  realisation of  having two of the most attractive men she’d ever met on top of her. Their fingers intertwined and she clamped down with a deadly grip as the release rolled over her body like a tsunami. A particularly explicit moan escaped her and she bucked her hips aggressively into Draco.   

“Theo,” Draco breathed as soon as his lips left Hermione’s cunt. “Faster.” 

Theo obliged, and Hermione watched as Malfoy’s mouth fell open, the remnants of her orgasm dripping from his lips. He was still gripping her thighs and she knew he was close by the way he dug his fingernails in. She let out a yelp of pain. 

Draco finished hard, his cum shooting out far enough to land on Hermione’s cunt. Theo came shortly after with a loud groan. Shuddering, he pulled out of Draco and threw himself onto his back on the bed. 

Malfoy laid limp beside Hermione, his breath steady on her skin. She could see the clear imprint of his fingernails in her thighs and they stung in a way that felt like he had pierced her skin. Not too bad of a souvenir. 

“Well, that was nice,” Theo said after a while, making Hermione and Draco laugh. 

Their giggling only picked up when they heard Theo snoring a few minutes later. He had fallen asleep stark naked on top of his covers before his guests had even left. 

“I think that’s our cue,” Draco said, collecting his clothes and casting quick cleaning charms before putting them back on. 

“I guess so,” Hermione agreed. 

She threw the comforter over Theo before leaving.

*******************************

Back in their own room, they both took showers– separately– before settling into the bed. 

Hermione still wasn’t tired, but she imagined Malfoy must be exhausted. Still, she couldn’t help but talk as she stared at the ceiling, restless. 

“Funny. Theo called me your girlfriend earlier,” she said. “Wouldn’t that be something…” 

Draco grunted in response, turning over to look at her. 

“I can see the Daily Prophet front page story now,” he said. “Rita would come up with something ridiculous.” 

“No doubt,” Hermione sighed. She should let him sleep, she knew that. But she began to giggle again. “Did you know I trapped her in a jar once?” 

Malfoy’s eyes widened. If he had been tired, he wasn’t any longer. 

“Excuse me?” 

To be fair, she’d had every intention to tell him the Rita Skeeter story and nothing more. But then it turned into tale after tale, narrating her adventures with Harry and Ron over their years at Hogwarts. 

Back then, it had seemed like Malfoy was everywhere, but there truly was so much that he’d no idea about. All the rogue Quidditch bludgers and brooms, turning herself into a cat-like mutant in Myrtle’s bathroom, the Chamber of Secrets, time-travelling, and all of the failed teenage relationships the three of them had gotten themselves into. 

Draco listened to every story, only stopping to ask questions when Hermione was done speaking. He told his own afterwards, admitting that his time at Hogwarts hadn’t been nearly as exciting. When he wasn’t having full-blown meltdowns in the Slytherin common room or taking it out on the trio, he said he just sat around with Blaise and Theo doing homework and listening to Pansy gossip. 

“You mean you weren’t spending every waking second planning our downfall?” Hermione asked sarcastically. 

“More like planning my own,” he said with a yawn. 

“I’ve kept you up. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I feel like a lot of people don’t know this stuff,” he told her. “But now I get to.” 

Hermione sank down, finally resting her head on her pillow. Draco’s arm slipped around her waist, resting there lazily. She wasn’t even certain he’d realized he’d done it. 

“Did you ask to be in Gryffindor?” he asked after a while. 

“Yes,” she said quietly. 

“I wish you hadn’t.” 

Hermione slept for five hours. Barely.

After laying in bed and staring at the horribly dull hotel ceiling for a while, she decided that was the best she was going to get. Her sleep schedule had officially entered the phase of long naps and restless nights.  

She dressed quickly, throwing on comfortable exercise pants — admittedly wrinkled—and one of the tshirts Ginny had packed for her. She still hadn’t managed to wash her hair, so she threw it up in an extra messy bun, using her wand as a hair pin. 

The streets of Zurich were quiet at this early hour of the morning, but she followed the scent of espresso to a nearby cafe. On her way back, coffee and pastry in hand, she took a scenic route, trusting her directional instincts to get her back to the hotel one way or another. When she finally approached the building, she saw a group of girls her age huddled around the tour buses. 

Though it was only a little past eight in the morning, they were fully dressed and ready for the day. The morning breeze was strong, but it didn't seem to bother them in the slightest, as most of the girls were wearing bikini tops as shirts. Their shorts were frayed and short, and some of them had lacy knickers showing over the waistline. As they posed for pictures in front of the tour buses, Hermione noticed that their faces were perfectly contoured, their lashes long, eyeliner flattering, and lips plump and coloured. The hairstyles, however, varied across the girls. Some wore pigtails, others wore beachy curls, and one had flat ironed her blonde hair absolutely pin straight. 

These were Malfoy’s fans. They were probably the kind who liked to queue early in the morning to get a front row spot and they’d seen the tour buses on their way there. 

The closer she got to the hotel doors, the more they began to notice her. They dropped their conversations and stared at Hermione quite blatantly, no trace of a smile on any of their faces. 

Suddenly, Hermione was feeling extremely uncomfortable in her lazy, early-morning-walk outfit. She could feel the knots in her hair, the bags under her eyes. The lobby door couldn’t open quickly enough. 

She only let herself breathe freely when she pushed open the door to her hotel room. Malfoy was standing right behind the door, rummaging through his suitcase, making Hermione jump. 

“ Merlin, ” she breathed. “Good morning.” 

“Morning,” he mumbled, not looking up at her. 

“Went for some espresso,” she told him, though he hadn’t asked. “Couldn’t sleep any later.” 

“Theo go with you?” he asked. He kept his attention focused on what he was doing. 

Something felt off. He was avoiding looking at her. 

“No, just me,” Hermione said, lowering herself down into one of the chairs by the window. “You alright?” 

“Fine,” Draco clipped. 

“You didn’t even try to make that convincing,” she sighed. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. I just–” he let out a heavy breath and looked up from his suitcase, but still not at her. “I think we should get our rooms switched back, okay? This was– I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

Hermione felt her heart fall to her stomach. 

She’d finally made amends with their situation-ship, attempting to worry less about it. And now he was kicking her out?

What had she done? It couldn’t have been–

“Is this about last night?” she asked. 

“Yes,” he growled, finally turning to meet her eyes. His pale face looked ghostly, the light gone from his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself. I feel so stupid, I’ve been so naive. I only realised last night when you were telling me about all your Hogwarts adventures–” 

“This is about my stories ?” 

“There’s a reason you didn’t like me in school,” he said quietly. 

“I’m well aware of that,” she told him, her mind reeling. None of it was adding up. “You already apologised.”

“Maybe. But I’d forgotten… it was more than the name-calling and taunting. I stayed up all night thinking about some of the things you described. How can you look at me knowing that I was the one who cursed Katie Bell and made you watch? That it was me who poisoned Slughorn’s alcohol for Dumblefore, leaving Weasley nearly dead?” he remained stagnant as he stood there, but she could see his body shaking. “Your best friend… he sliced me open in the bathroom, for Merlin’s sake. That’s how much of a threat I was to you lot.” 

Hermione fell silent for a moment, placing her to-go cup on one of the night tables. 

“Harry didn’t know what the spell did,” she said quietly. “He wouldn’t have used it if he had.” 

“It doesn't matter,” Draco said, shaking his head. His arm muscles flexed as he clenched his hands into fists. “And I’ve been idiotic enough to think that an ‘ I’m sorry’ gives me the right to touch you. I haven’t thought about school in a long time. It’s selfish of me, really.” 

Another silence fell over them, and Hermione felt like she was grasping at something that was quickly fleeing from her reach. 

“This is harder than either of us imagined, isn’t it?” she asked after a while, letting a nervous laugh escape her. 

He didn’t even so much as sigh in response. Hermione got the message.  

“Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll just… shower and be out of your hair.”

She grabbed her clothes for the day and hurried off to the bathroom, feeling the sense of loss settle in as she closed the door on his nearly naked body. That would be the last time she’d see it while it was hers. 

With a sigh, she turned the water on and leaned onto the sink, taking a close up of herself in the mirror. She let out a sad laugh. 

Was she really mourning the fact that she’d never sleep with Draco Malfoy again? 

Yes. Yes, she was. 

The Hermione she saw in the mirror was not the Golden Girl. She was…just Hermione. 

Sure, the world might never accept a reality where a Granger and a Malfoy shared a bed, but she certainly could, and no one else needed to know about it. It was her right to. His, too. 

With a defiant breath, she turned the shower back off and marched out into the hotel room. 

“Malfoy,” she said with conviction. He looked up at her from where he was sitting on the edge of his bed, typing on his mobile. “Come here.” 

He got up warily, making his way over to her. Hermione gripped him by the wrist and tugged him in front of the mirror. 

“Look at us together,” she told him, meeting his eyes in the reflection. “You’re attracted to me?” 

“What?” he asked. 

“Are you , Draco Malfoy, attracted to me , Hermione Granger?” she asked again, enunciating her words carefully. 

“Well, yes, of course. But–” 

“That’s great, because I’m attracted to you as well,” Hermione said, slipping into a blustering swotty mess in the face of how direct she’d need to be with him now. “And I think that’s really all we need to justify sleeping together. And I don’t care if you cursed Katie Bell, or poisoned Ron, or even that you took the Dark Mark because I punched you in the face, and trapped a woman in a jar, and also disfigured a young woman’s face with an irreversible spell. I’m sorry that you live with so much guilt, but I’ve forgiven you which means you’re obligated to forgive yourself too and for Godric’s sake , if you want to shag me and I want to shag you, then shag we shall, no?” 

Draco stared at her in the mirror for quite some time, his expression unreadable. Shock, perhaps? 

“I don’t know–” he began with a croak. “Are you–” 

“Well, even if you have decided our little deal is up, I think I did maybe, kind of promise you some sort of show last night.” 

“Hermione–” 

“Do you want a show or not, Malfoy?” she snapped.

He nodded nervously. 

She smiled triumphantly at him in the reflection before turning around to face him. 

It was a tad awkward to start the whole ordeal without kissing him, but she took to pulling her wand out of her hair and casting a music charm on the room. A soft jazz number played. Then she ran her hands through her curls, fluffing them out and making sure they fell just right over her shoulders. 

Her stomach dropped a bit as she pulled her shirt off, revealing her bare breasts underneath. Malfoy’s intense eyes were scanning every inch of her. They’d be able to see every flaw, every imperfection with that analytic gaze. His jaw clenched. Otherwise, he remained entirely still. 

She massaged her breasts for him, pretending her hands were his. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine it better. A ring-clad hand teasing her nipples, travelling across her collarbone, coming to lay around her neck…

Hermione tried to suppress the embarrassment she felt as a whine escaped her, nearly forgetting that he was watching. She was soaking her knickers and he hadn’t laid a single finger on her. 

Next, she got to work pulling down her sweatpants, which felt entirely un-sexy until they were completely off, revealing lacy blue knickers underneath– Ginny had only packed her more risque undergarments, which Hermione figured she should be grateful for in retrospect. She discarded those as well, turning around to give Malfoy a good view of her arse as she did so. She braced herself for his palm to hit her right where it would make her moan, but it never came. 

When they were standing facing each other again, Draco watched her every move, following her hand as she lifted it to her mouth and took two of her fingers inside, sucking them until they were sufficiently lubricated. As they travelled slowly back down her chest and past her abdomen, those icy blue eyes never left them. 

She parted herself with a gasp, feeling her cold fingertips slide across her clit. It came alive immediately, begging her for more, even though she would have preferred thicker, rougher fingers instead. 

Hermione let out a whimper as she began to work her sensitive spot in circles, sending familiar waves of pleasure through her body. 

She’d never masturbated in front of anyone before, but she found that it was much less daunting than she’d imagined. 

Ever since joining this tour, she hadn’t needed to get herself off, as Malfoy had always been around to do that for her. But there had been moments… when he was on stage or when he’d left for his daily rockstar duties where she’d found herself thinking about him just like this. His shirt off, proudly showcasing all of his tattoos,and scars, and perfect muscles. His thighs, his cock, his hands, his words… it all made her weak. 

Hermione reached her free hand out and splayed her fingers across his abdomen, feeling the ripple of his abs beneath her fingertips. She let out a moan as she slipped the first finger inside her own cunt.

“Do you hear that?” she breathed. “That was for you. That’s how just thinking about you makes me feel.” 

She pumped her fingers into herself,  producing a ripple of little whines from the back of her throat. Gods, she’d been trying to seduce him and all she’d ended up doing was torturing herself. 

“So good, ” she moaned. “I don’t care how bad you made me feel when we were bloody twelve. You make me feel so good now.” 

She watched in satisfaction as his large hand reached to grab his hard-on, shifting it beneath his pants. She knew she had him. 

“It’s okay, Draco,” she said, strained. “You can touch me if you want to.” 

A grunt sounded deep within his throat. 

“But I can keep thinking about you if you’d prefer that instead.” 

She slipped another finger inside herself and gasped at the sensation. With a quickened tempo, she doubled over, whimpering non stop as she curled her digits at that spot deep inside that Malfoy had so gracefully found for her. She kept eye contact with him even as she collapsed in on herself, her face moving closer and closer to his chest. 

“Fuck, Granger,” Draco rasped. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“It’s not as good without you,” she whispered. “Don’t you want to make me feel good?” 

He groaned again, and she could see him physically restraining himself from grabbing her and shagging her senseless. 

Instead, he simply pulled her fingers out from between her legs, making her whine. He pulled them up to his mouth, where he lapped up the arousal dripping off them. He moaned, his eyes rolling back into his head.

“Yes. Fuck, yes, I want to make you feel good,” he said quietly. “I admit it’s not the way I imagined making amends, but I’ll take it.” 

“And how did you imagine it?” she asked, her voice shaky as she watched him free his cock from his pants and stroke himself. Red. Swollen. Leaking. Aching for her as she ached for him.  

“I don't know,” he laughed tentatively. “A million apology letters and buying you any library in the world. Not with my cock and your bloody degradation kink.” 

Hermione’s lips curled into a smile. 

“But that’s what I want,” she said. 

“Then you’ll have it,” he told her, pulling her into him and kissing her like he hadn’t known the feeling in years. 

He wasted no time with the niceties, scraping his teeth over her lips and staking his claim over her mouth with his pierced tongue. Then he was moving down her jawline, spreading open-mouth kisses on every inch like he was marking his territory. It was his– at the moment. She’d made a pinky promise, after all. 

She made pathetic little sounds as his mouth found her pulse point and sucked with enough fervour to bruise immediately. His breathing was loud through his nostrils as he continued to kiss down her body, never coming up for air. He kissed her collarbones, bit her breasts, circled his tongue around her nipples. She let herself feel worshipped as the pangs of ecstasy travelled through her whole body. 

When she felt his tip pressing up against her cunt, she pushed him away slightly. 

“No,” she panted, turning around to find his eyes in the reflection again. “I want you to fuck me in front of the mirror so you can see what I see. So you can see that there’s no denying that I’m me and you’re you and it still feels this fucking good.” 

“Are you sure?” he asked. 

Honestly, she wasn’t.  

Just a few days ago, she would have thought she couldn't bear to look at herself this way. Naked, submissive, and in front of him. It would be crossing some sort of a line. But now that she heard the worry on his lips, it seemed so pointless. 

As her way of saying yes, she leaned over the sink and arched her back, sticking her arse out to him. 

He made a guttural sort of noise as he pushed into her slowly, giving her time to breathe as her cunt once again adjusted to accommodate his length. He bottomed out and settled there for a second, his fingers coming up to tangle into her curls. His hand bunched them up and pulled them off her neck, her scalp stinging as he tugged– one of her favourite feelings. It wasn’t quite a bad hairdo; his pale hand serving as a hair tie in her mess of cinnamon brown. 

She thrusted back into him, desperate for friction. 

Draco’s head fell back, his lips parted in a silent moan, his eyes fluttering closed. She moaned hoarsely at the sight– at the idea that she could make him feel that good. But now was not the time for such a spectacle. 

“Malfoy,” she purred. “Watch.” 

He did as she said, directing his attention back to the mirror. 

She watched herself first. Her eyes were darker than ever, her pupils blown out in a way that dissolved her brown irises completely. Her face was flushed, her lips in a perfect pout. Draco picked up the speed of his thrusts, making her breasts bounce in a way she'd never seen before. 

She looked so… erotic. 

That was a word she’d rarely used to describe herself. 

And the man who was fucking her… he couldn’t have looked any different from who’d she expected him to be. Pale as snow, piercing eyes, and lips she knew every nook and cranny of. Pierced, tattooed, and so familiar. 

There they were. 

Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. 

Two famous wizards. Two very different reasons for notoriety. 

In the same picture together– the same mirror. Naked, intimate, and dirty. 

But it didn’t look wrong like she thought it would.  

In fact, they looked quite good together. They looked right. 

She’d feared the idea of watching him fuck her like this; where she could see her own face too. The two of them… they weren’t meant to be like this. With everything they’d been through… it was against all Wizarding rules. 

Though, they’d never quite followed those, had they? 

Those events in their past– the good, the bad, the traumatic– it hadn’t divided them. That was the unifying thread that brought them back to each other. The reason she was here with him and quite literally not anyone else. Because he could have been– he could have been any other man. But he was Malfoy, and he was fucking her to satisfaction, like he had many times now. 

The labels… Slytherin and Gryffindor. Muggle-born and pureblood. Mudblood and Death Eater. 

It didn’t matter. They’d parted ways only to meet again. 

“Like what you see?” she asked. 

“Mhm,” he hummed. 

“Draco– talk to me,” Hermione breathed. 

To her surprise, he chuckled darkly. It seemed he’d found his confidence again. 

“Need to hear me, do you?” he asked. 

His hand that wasn’t death-gripping her hair snaked around to the front of her throat, his fingers tickling her there. They sent shockwaves through her stomach as they made their way up to her lips, which she parted for him. He stuck his fingers so far in her mouth, all she could see were his silver rings resting on her lip. One with the letter ‘M’ engraved on it stared back at her as he pressed down on her tongue and she lapped up the taste of his skin. 

“And tell me, Granger, what will you do when this tour is over? When our little arrangement comes to an end?” he continued. Hermione whimpered at the thought. “Do you think you’ll find someone who can make you shake the way I do? Someone who will fight with you before fucking you?” 

She moaned around his fingers, relishing the way the pitiful sound echoed off the bathroom walls.

Where would she find someone to shag her like he did? It could only be downhill from here. She’d spend the rest of her life searching for an orgasm as intense as one given by Draco Malfoy. 

“What do you plan to do, Hermione?” he asked, as if she could answer with the way his fingers were gagging her. He seemed to be getting off on his own words too, as her hips were pressed more firmly into the cold side of the sink. “When you don’t have me at your disposal anymore, I guess you’ll have to put my songs on and touch yourself, won’t you? What a pretty little sight that would be.” 

She nearly finished on the spot before a knock at the door made her jump. 

Draco didn’t falter. He continued to fuck her, unbothered, meeting her eyes in the mirror. 

“Keep moaning for me,” he demanded. 

She did no such thing, half-expecting someone to walk in at the moment. Whoever it was, they knocked again. 

He increased his tempo again, rubbing his piercing over her sweet spot. Hermione suppressed a squeal. 

“Don’t stop now, baby, I thought you weren’t ashamed.”

“Draco–” she choked out quietly. 

“More,” he demanded. 

Another knock. 

“Draco!” Jonah’s voice called through the hotel room door. “We gotta go soon. You up?” 

“Be right there!” Malfoy called back. 

“Draco– we can’t–” Hermione gasped. 

This only earned her a harder shag, tears starting to form in her eyes from the veracity at which he was fucking her. The sound of hip bones colliding with her arse repeatedly bounced off the tile walls.

“ Draco! ” she moaned, far too loudly for her liking. Surely Jonah heard that one. 

“That’s better,” he said with an evil smile. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come.” 

Her own body was seizing up, her cunt clenching around his cock. She bit her lip hard in an attempt to stop whatever ungodly sound was about to leave her. 

But Malfoy was looking at her in the mirror with half-lidded eyes. She didn’t stand a chance. 

Her knees buckled as she cried out and Draco caught her with both hands, grabbing her trembling hips and slowing his pace. She knew from his deeper thrusts that he was finishing too, and one last sob escaped her as she felt his cum completely fill her. He grunted, shivering against her. 

The knocking continued. 

“For fuck’s sake, Jonah, I’m getting dressed!” Malfoy spat. 

“Think he’s going to fall for that?” Hermione asked, panting. She turned around to look at him, grasping his arms for support against her still wobbly legs. 

“No chance,” he smiled. “You were screaming like a banshee.” 

“I hate you,” she groaned, planting her face against his sweaty chest. Her breath caught, realising what she’d just said. “But don’t take that literally, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

Hermione wasn’t entirely sure what the reasoning behind her exceedingly good mood was. She had a few guesses, though. 

A wonderful shag– make that two, actually. Her recounting of her good Hogwarts memories. Or perhaps even the nice new camera lens that she had bought before the show. 

Whatever it was, she felt the buzz in her bones as she awaited Malfoy’s set from her place in the photo pit. The crowd was chattering, his pre-show playlist blasting, and the air was thick with the anticipation of his arrival. 

From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw two girls at the barricade repeatedly stealing glances at her, to which she responded once with a quick smile. But they didn’t stop. Every few seconds, they’d look over at her before turning to each other and giggling. Hermione’s cheeks reddened. 

“Excuse me?” she said politely, stepping towards them. 

“What?” one of the girls asked, her smile dropping. 

“Sorry– just– did you need something from me? You keep looking–” 

Now her friend rolled her eyes. 

“We were just wondering how many of Draco’s band members you had to sleep with before you got this job,” she said.  

Hermione was stunned speechless for a moment. 

“Excuse me?” she asked again, this time more firmly. 

“Come on, you’re all over the internet,” the first girl scoffed. “Did you have to get passed around the uglier guys first before you got to him?” 

“Look around,” her friend said. “You’re the only woman working the event. You think that’s a coincidence?” 

Hermione’s heart was pounding in her ears at an unnatural rate. Her face felt like it was on fire and hot, angry tears threatened to escape the corners of her eyes. The camera shook in her hands, so she dropped it to hang from her neck instead. 

She wanted to scream. She wanted to hex someone. Maybe even just slap them across the face with her bare hand. But instead, she stood, unmoving between these two horrible people. 

She should text Malfoy. He could do something about it. He said he’d drop what he was doing for her. He’d defend her the same way he’d defended Theo. 

No. 

She knew why she was here. She knew how she had gotten her job as a journalist and why she’d been picked for the Draco assignment. She didn’t need him.

Hermione forced a smile onto her face. 

“Can I see your ticket for a moment please?” she asked the girls at the barricade. She wondered if t was one of the girls she had seen this morning. “I think you’re in the wrong section.” 

“ What? No I’m not,” one of them replied, giving Hermione a nasty look. 

She pulled her ticket out and shoved it towards Hermione, who took it before looking towards the nearest security guard. 

“Sir, these girls are supposed to be in the nosebleeds,” she told him, handing him the ticket that she’d just charmed to say section 210 instead of GA. 

“Enjoy your night!” she said cheerily as the girls were lifted over the barricade and escorted out of the section. 

The looks on the girls’ faces were quite satisfactory. They looked as if they’d absolutely charge Hermione if the security guards hadn't been there. Or perhaps they’d simply burst into tears once out of her sight. 

But the feeling faded once they were gone. A foul mood consumed her. 

She felt all eyes on her. 

Was she all over the internet? 

Chapter Text

Their first night in Paris had been a blur; settling in, fighting the bus-induced exhaustion, and eventually giving into it with an early night. 

Hermione woke up, taking a moment to remember where she was. Their Paris suite was the nicest so far, with an extra long bed and an elegant couch at the foot of it. Large doors opened to a balcony with a breathtaking view of Paris, which Hermione had admired briefly upon their arrival. The colours of the room were light and inviting, like it was pulled right out of a magazine. 

She was enjoying the little details now that she was well-rested, but as her eyes travelled down, her brows furrowed at one very curious sight. 

Malfoy stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting a tie. 

He was wearing black pressed trousers, a black long sleeved button-up adorned with emerald cufflinks, and a black vest, which his emerald  green tie fit snugly under. 

She pushed herself up onto her elbows, blinking a couple of times to make sure she was seeing everything right. Ever since she’d joined the tour, she hadn’t seen Malfoy wear more than a tshirt and frayed jeans. More often than not, he’d been found with only trousers on. 

Now… Well, now he looked so… gentlemanly . 

His tattoos were still sticking out at the top of his collar and onto the backs of his hands and his black ear jewellery accentuated the outfit nicely. 

“Where–” Hermione began, but a lump had formed in her throat, and the word came out all funky. 

Draco turned to look at her. 

“Ah, you’re up,” he said with a grin. “Good. I just found out we have an off day today and I made some last minute calls this morning to some of my contacts around Paris. Got a nice little itinerary planned out for myself. Would you like to accompany me? I don’t think they’ll mind a plus one.” 

Hermione’s heart began racing. An entire day off? Free to roam around Paris? 

“Oh, please, yes, if you don’t mind,” she said excitedly, throwing off the comforter and getting to her feet. “I’ll be just a minute getting dressed. Oh, gods, I have nothing to wear!” 

“Well, love, I’d be more than fine with that, but they may not let you into most of these places,” Draco told her with that seductive edge to his voice. 

She spat out a “ shut up!” before hurrying into the bathroom, taking her entire suitcase with her. She had plenty to wear, but nothing that would look as nice as Malfoy’s getup. Clothes went flying around the small bathroom as she desperately tried to come up with something. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” she called through the door. “I don’t want to impose on your day. And what about Theo?”

“As long as you promise not to make a fool of our tour guides, yeah? You may already know everything, but I believe they have a job to do,” Malfoy said slyly. Hermione rolled her eyes and laughed quietly to herself. “And I’ve already asked Theo but he isn’t feeling well.” 

“Oh,” Hermione said idly, focusing most of her attention on the transfiguration spell she was currently trying to pull off. “So it’ll just be us?” 

“Yes, just– us…” Draco’s voice trailed off as Hermione stepped out of the bathroom and out in front of the full-length mirror in her brand new dress. 

She smiled when she saw her own reflection. She looked quite beautiful and the spell work was absolutely perfect. 

Out of one of her sleepshirts she’d made a silky maxi-length dress adorned with a square neckline and fitted bodice. It hugged her body so tightly, she could barely take her eyes off herself. A high-slit showed the smooth skin of her upper thigh and the spaghetti straps looked perfectly dainty upon her freckled shoulders. Plus, she always had looked very good in green. 

“This– this is what you call ‘nothing to wear?’” Malfoy asked, stepping behind her and meeting her eyes in the mirror. 

“I transfigured it,” she said proudly, turning to face him. “Your tie inspired me.” 

She placed a hand on the shiny fabric, pressing her hand against his chest. She’d gotten the material almost perfectly. They looked entirely coordinated. 

“You look– you look–” Draco’s throat bobbed as he searched for the right word, his eyes travelling Hermione’s body from head to toe. They trailed over the hand she had placed on his chest before finally landing on her own gaze. 

Hermione decided to put him out of his misery, pushing up onto her toes to meet his height. “I know,” she whispered, her lips ghosting over his. “You look handsome yourself, Malfoy.” 

Then she turned around quickly to hide the smug look on her face. She busied herself with throwing her belongings into a small purse alongside a digital camera. Malfoy cleared his throat behind her. 

In the reflection of the mirror, she saw him sit down on the edge of one of the beds. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, spinning around to face him. “I thought we were leaving.” 

“You’ll have to give me a moment,” he said, his pale cheeks turning a brilliant shade of pink. 

Hermione's eyes fluttered down to where his hands were shifting nervously, a burst of laughter leaving her immediately. 

“Draco Malfoy, you are one horny little twat, you know that?” she chuckled. 

He shot her a deadly look. 

“I’ll remember that when I have your knickers looking like you went for a swim later,” he spat. 

Unfortunately, her cheeks turned pink as well. 

It only took a few minutes and a bit of chatter about Harry and Ron to get Malfoy flaccid again and then they were happily on their way. Draco had arranged for a driver to pick them up from the hotel. It was a fancy car with an absolutely spotless interior. After roughing it on tour with him these last few weeks, it was a loud reminder of just how rich he still was.. 

Adding fuel to the fire, they were dropped off at a dock right on the Seine, where a two-level boat awaited them. So, they’d be doing a river tour, then. Hermione’s eyes lit up. This was exactly the type of exploring she’d been wanting to do this whole tour. 

Malfoy offered his hand and helped her step onto the boat, which had a covered bottom level complete with a posh lounge. 

“Bonjour!” the woman behind the bar greeted them, coming around to hand them two flutes of champagne. 

“Thank you,” Hermione said with a nod. 

“ Merci ,” Draco said, smirking when Hermione frowned. 

Always trying to outdo her. 

He motioned towards the door with his head and she followed him to the staircase that led to the upper level. She yelped, gripping the railing, as the boat started to move. 

“Wait, we’re alone on the boat?” she asked. “I thought there would be a whole tour. There’s enough seats–” 

“I don’t share,” Draco told her, winking over his shoulder. 

On the top level of the boat, the sun was beating down hard, but its careful sail down the river brought a nice breeze with it, blowing Hermione’s hair lightly.

A smile formed on her face as she watched the bustling city from its calm waters. Crowds of people hurried down the streets, couples had picnics on the stone steps, and cars could be heard in the distance. But from her place on the water, time seemed to stand still. 

The Eiffel Tower stood glittering in the distance, a cheerful reminder of where they were. Hermione gasped as they passed the Cathedral of Notre Dame, marvelling at its architecture. She’d always dreamed of seeing it up close but never could have imagined its ability to take her breath away in person. 

Paris was such a quaint-feeling city, like a pocket of fantasy hidden beneath the reality of the rest of the world. 

“Did you know the cathedral was originally a temple of Jupiter?” Hermione asked, not peeling her eyes off of it. “I think it's so fascinating that as theology shifted, the places of worship shifted with it, rather than everything being razed and rebuilt. The way that paganism was so easily forgotten… you would think that it would bother patrons of the modern religions, but–” 

She turned, feeling eyes on her suddenly. Draco was looking at her with an unreadable face. Had he been staring the whole time? Surely he wasn’t missing out on the incredible views they were privy to at the moment. Unless… had he been zoning out? 

“Oh, am I boring you?” she asked, forcing out a chuckle. She was used to her friends tuning her out like this. 

“Not at all,” he said, taking a sip of his champagne. “I was learning.” 

Still, her cheeks reddened, and she tried to cover it up by taking a sip of her drink as well. 

“Ah, here we go,” Malfoy said suddenly, pointing behind Hermione. “This is my favourite view of the Eiffel Tower from the river. Quick, did I see you pack a camera?” 

Hermione nodded, plunging a hand into her bag and pulling the camera out. Draco placed his champagne on a nearby seat and backed up to get a better angle. But to her surprise, he didn’t point the camera at the tower. He pointed it at her. 

“ Draco, what are you doing?” she asked, giggling. She put a hand up in front of her face to shield it from the camera. 

“Come on, smile,” he told her, his large hand nearly swallowing the little piece of technology whole. “A little pose, perhaps.” 

Hermione frowned, but gave in anyway. She gave her most flustered smile, placing her free hand on her hip and tilting her head. 

“Wonderful,” Draco said, looking down at the camera. “I certainly hope I did that right.” 

Then he went back to leaning on the side of the boat, looking out toward the approaching Pont de Arts. She didn’t comment on the fact that he had slipped the camera into one of his pockets. 

The boat ride lasted about an hour, circling right back to where they had begun. Hermione’s heart panged with desire as she saw a sign for the Musée d’Orsay. Whatever Malfoy had planned was surely not a whole day of art-browsing. Though, if it was anything comparable to the private river tour they had just experienced, she didn’t see any complaining in her future. 

“Don’t be mad,” Draco said as he helped her off the boat. “But I don’t have a contact at the Musée d’Orsay.” 

“Oh, that’s alright,” she said, feeling quite embarrassed. Had she been that obvious? Was he watching her that intently? “What’s next?” 

“A little place called the Louvre,” he told her. “Have you heard of it?” 

Hermione felt her face break out into one of its dorkiest smiles. 

“Shut up,” she said, biting her lip. 

“If you so wish,” he shrugged before turning away. 

Her heels clicked on the stone streets as she rushed to keep up with him. 

Malfoy was not only a quick walker, but also a quick observer. He pointed things out on their walk to the museum that took Hermione far too long to see. While he threw money into performers’ buckets and waved off street merchants without skipping a beat, she kept getting lost amongst the crowds, having to crane her neck to find his shock of white-blond hair again. 

“Are you trying to lose me?” his voice startled her as her eyes were darting between the mess of pedestrians in front of her. 

“I assume you’ve been to Paris a lot?” she asked him, beginning to follow his lead again. 

“Mother always loved to come and now she lives nearby,” he replied, his voice muffled amongst the chattering tourists around them. “Some friends of mine do too.” 

A man cut in front of Hermione and she feared she’d lost Draco again. 

But then his hand was in hers– she knew it from its grooved callouses left by his guitar strings. 

“I’m afraid you promised to be my plus one,” he said, slowing his pace to walk by her side. “I will not embarrass myself by showing up alone now.” 

Once again, Hermione didn’t comment on the fact that he continued to hold her hand until they arrived at the Louvre. Nor the fact that she felt the same nerves the Yule Ball had incited in her all those years ago. 

It was the city’s buzz, of course. 

When they approached the museum, Hermione’s heart was positively bursting with excitement. The structure itself was massive, creating its own little town square. It could have been a whole mess of different buildings and shops, but it was all one art museum; a castle containing nothing but the history of creatives. 

Hermione wanted to do a little dance. Instead, she dropped Draco’s hand and did one spin, taking in her surroundings as she went. As the world stopped spinning, the Louvre was still firmly in place. It wasn’t a dream. 

Draco led her straight to the Pyramid entrance, where a massive line of people were waiting to get in, deflating her spirit a bit. It didn’t seem to be moving very quickly– that was definitely going to cut into their art browsing time. 

But he didn’t stop to step into line behind them. Instead, he walked demurely to the front of the queue and whispered something to the man who was checking tickets. The line of people were halted even further as the worker said something in French into his radio and awaited a response. Draco swayed in place, hands in his trouser pockets, until a woman in a pantsuit came out to greet him. 

“Monsieur Malfoy,” she said, her accent thick. A wizard. “Welcome, welcome. Ah! Who is this? I was expecting Narcissa.” 

“Bonjour, Eden,” Draco replied with a nod. “This is Hermione Granger. My mother is on holiday at the moment.” 

“‘ Ermione Granger?” Eden gasped, holding out her hand for Hermione to shake. “It’s a pleasure to have you here. Please, welcome in!” 

She led them into the Louvre, which was already buzzing with excited tourists ready to check something off of their bucket lists. 

“Today we will see the sculptures and the Mona Lisa. Then I thought we would head to the Egyptian collection as Monsieur Malfoy did not reach that section on his last visit,” Eden explained. 

“Er- do call me Draco, in case any fans are lingering,” he cut in. “And please, whatever the lady wants to see.” 

Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“Can’t we see it all?” she asked. 

Eden laughed amicably. 

“My dear, it would take nearly one-hundred days to see everything in the Louvre,” she told her. “And that’s if you only spend thirty seconds on one piece. I imagine ‘Ermione Granger will have more questions than that.” 

Hermione blushed. Her eyes fluttered between Draco and Eden. It was Draco’s tour, she had only tagged along because he offered. He should see the Egyptian collection if he hadn’t already seen it. But…

“Well, I would really love to see the Greek antiquities,” she said quietly. 

“Then we shall!” Eden said excitedly. “Let’s get started.” 

If Hermione ever was to return to the Louvre, she feared it would never live up to this day’s experience. Eden gave them a private tour, leading them past the long queue to see the Mona Lisa (much smaller than Hermione expected), gave them extensive historical facts about each of the sculptures (the Winged Victory of Samothrace was stunning), and answered all of Hermione’s questions about the Greek antiquities (if it was found in Greece, how did it get its Roman name?). 

For the most part, the next few hours consisted of the two women speaking intently about art and history and learning from each other’s knowledge. Hermione was thrilled, not only to have a fellow swot exploring one of the most famous museums with her, but also because it was a woman. 

But after a while, Draco’s silence began nagging her. She turned to him as Eden led them between wings. 

“Are you alright?” she asked. 

“How could I not be?” 

“You’re very quiet.” 

A smile slowly grew on his face. His eyes were dark and mischievous. 

“I’m admiring the art, Hermione,” he said silkily.

Hermione looked quickly over to Eden, her cheeks turning red. Malfoy was certainly making her blush an unhealthy amount today. The French woman hadn’t seemed to hear his blatant little flirting. 

“So you’re not getting bored?” Hermione asked. 

Draco rolled his eyes. 

“Can you give me a little credit, please? I also like this stuff, you know,” he told her. “Though, do let me know when we’ve seen everything you wanted to see. There’s one more place I’d like to go before our dinner reservations.” 

“Where?” she asked. 

“You’ll see,” he smirked. 

“I hate surprises,” Hermione pouted. 

“So I’ve learned.” 

She opened her mouth to ask what he meant by that, but she was cut off by his mobile quietly ringing in his pocket. He pulled it out just enough to decline to call and stuff it back down. 

Hermione pouted the whole way to their mystery location. She was upset after they bid goodbye to Eden and frightened by the concept of following Malfoy to a mystery place. Would it be the liquid panty-dropper factory? 

He brought her through a quaint little area with lots of shade and far less tourists. A fan stopped him for a photo, so Hermione stepped awkwardly away for the moment. However, upon looking up, she was met with an even more stunning view of the cathedral than the boat ride had been able to offer her. She felt incredibly small in its shadow, like a plebian staring up at the hall of the gods. 

“We’re here, by the way,” Malfoy said, his voice breaking her out of her trance. 

She looked behind him, spotting a small cafe. He walked towards it but didn’t enter. The next few steps made all the difference, revealing a hidden little bookshop. 

Books overflowed out onto the street in green bookshelves to entice shoppers inside. Above the doorway, the sign read ‘SHAKESPEARE AND COMPANY.’ 

Hermione clasped her hands together excitedly. 

“A bookstore,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Not just any bookstore,” he told her. “My mother always loved to come here. I never understood it, really, until asking you about why you were going book-shopping in Glasgow. You can get Shakespeare’s texts at any department store in any corner of the world. But the editions here are special. Rare, limited, unique covers, and they’re all stamped with the Shakespeare and Company logo by hand which you can only get here from this very store. It’s been here since the 1950s. You can also get non-Shakespeare books here, including some united pressings from local authors who are trying to kick off their careers. I imagine there are a few gems hidden in here somewhere. I just thought– well, I thought you’d like it here, seeing as you were telling me all about the different lives of books depending on where in the world they are.”  

Hermione’s fingers reached up to fidget with her necklace as she tried to stop the feeling inside of her from bubbling over. She was so happy… excited… overwhelmed. Tears threatened to form in her eyes. She gave Draco a smile that made her skin crinkle on the sides of her face. 

“That’s— that’s so... Thank you, ” she said quietly, knowing that wasn’t nearly enough to cover it. 

Then she followed him inside and was met with the perfect combination of messy, overstocked, floor to ceiling bookshelves with peeling paint and splintered wood and modern seating areas, displays, and brilliant chandeliers. 

It was quite small inside, but it looked like it could hold just as many books as the library Narcissa was funding. 

Hermione began with her usual ritual, picking up every book that sparked her interest until she could not fit another one in her hands. Then she laid them down on one of the reading cushions nearby to start her process of elimination. She started with one Shakespeare title and a book of French poetry that she was hoping to learn a bit of the language from. Once she had picked four thinner titles to leave with, she sighed and told Draco she was ready to go. 

At checkout, the employee stamped her books with the Shakespeare and Company stamp and gave her an adorable tote bag with a cat on it to carry them in. She was halfway out of the store when she realised Draco wasn’t following her. 

Instead, she spotted him at the register, making his own purchase. Except… he was buying the books she hadn’t picked. 

“What are you doing?” she asked. 

“Buying some books,” he said simply. 

“Draco, you can’t– don’t do that,” she begged. 

“They’re for me , Granger. I love…” he picked one of the books out of his bag after checkout and read it quickly. “ Little Women, the Feminist Edition. ” 

She pouted at him. He shouldn’t be buying her things. But she couldn’t help but crack a smile at his idiocy. 

“Thank you,” she said again. 

They strolled back out into the park that sat beside the bookstore, basking in the shade and admiring the smell of pastries from the nearby cafe. Hermione found herself staring at the Cathedral of Notre Dame yet again when she felt the familiar ghost of Malfoy’s eyes on her. 

“What now?” she asked a bit snarkily, turning to meet his gaze. 

Draco let out a laugh. 

“Well, I was going to tell you that I’d like to kiss you right now, but with that attitude…” he began. “Besides, I know you don't want to be seen committing PDA with me.” 

For the millionth time that day, Hermione’s cheeks grew hot. She looked around in a flustered haze. The bookstore, the cafe, the little park, the towering cathedral. It all was very romantic. 

“I think it would be okay,” she whispered, looking up at him from behind her lashes. 

He grinned, stepping towards her and reaching out a hand to tuck a curl behind her ear. Then his fingers were gingerly on her face, cupping each of her cheeks. She wondered if he could feel the fire beneath them. 

As his lips met hers, she wrapped her arms around his middle, touching him just as lightly as he was her. He inhaled heavily, pulling her flush against him until she was standing with her feet in between his. His kisses were gentle and when his tongue darted out across her lip, even that was tender. That didn’t stop Hermione’s entire body from catching fire, however. The way he tugged on her lips with his own… well, she really wasn’t sure what the word for it was. Something she hadn’t felt before. A full-body experience, to say the least. 

When he finally pulled away, they were both out of breath. She faltered under his eye contact, stumbling backwards a bit. 

Gods, she was falling apart. 

“Draco?” a voice asked before either of them could speak to each other.

Once again, Hermione stepped away as he took a picture with one of his fans. She tried to stop her heart from beating so fast at the thought of the girl having witnessed their little moment together. She had avoided her planned scouring of the internet to go sightseeing. But now the thought was filling her with dread again. 

“Sorry about all that,” he sighed when she was gone. 

Hermione shook her head. “It’s nice you give them the time of day.” 

“Better than getting cursed at in Diagon Alley, isn’t it?” he said, a faraway look in his eyes. “Anyway, dinner?” 

She looked around and found that they were losing daylight quite quickly. He had let her spend hours in the Louvre. She bit her lip nervously. 

“Did I derail your day in Paris?” she asked. 

“Well, it was a bit swottier than I expected, but I did enjoy the company,” he told her. 

Hermione groaned, fighting the smile on her face. “You’re being nice again.” 

Draco had a devious look on his face– something between pleased and bothered. He closed in on her, his large hand landing gingerly on her arse through the fabric of her dress. 

“Why don’t you be a good little witch and stop asking if you bore me or if you ruined my day. Or I’ll have to show you how mean I can really be,” he whispered in her ear. 

A whine escaped her, making her immediately cover up her mouth with her hand. 

“That was payback for earlier,” he said in his normal voice now. “Come on, then.” 

Well played. 

It was a long walk to the restaurant but Hermione stayed close to him this time, keeping up with his strides. Her feet were beginning to ache in her heels, but she could manage for a bit longer. 

The sun continued to set and the lights of Paris began to turn on. A cool breeze swept through the city, and it seemed to calm the hustle and bustle of the city into a romantic night. Women went by in their dresses, and boats floated by on the Seine adorned with musicians playing lovely violins. As they moved closer to the Eiffel Tower, the more grand it seemed. All day, they’d seen it from a distance, but now it was glittering right above them like a constellation of stars close enough to touch. 

“Let me guess,” Hermione began. “You booked the most expensive restaurant with the best view of the tower, yeah?” 

“Best view of the tower ?” Draco clicked his tongue. “No. Far too cliche. We’ll be dining in it.” 

Hermione looked for something to say, but decided instead that no words were going to come to her, and she was better off swallowing her pride and allowing herself to be rendered speechless. She followed Draco blindly as he checked in at the entrance, was provided an escort, and motioned for Hermione to enter the private elevator. 

The Jules Vernon restaurant was located on the Eiffel Tower’s second floor, 125 metres off the ground. Being a flat city, they could nearly see all of Paris from there. Hermone was still gasping while the waiter poured them water and wine. 

“What would you like to eat?” Draco asked her a few minutes later. 

Hermione had to peel her eyes away from the window, like someone had glued them there. The sight across the table from her, however, was no less ravishing. 

Here, in this fancy restaurant, Draco blended in like an accessory that had come with the place. His white-blond hair resembled the pearl chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. His blue eyes mirrored the crystal accents placed around the room. His sharp jawline could have been the architecture of the Eiffel Tower itself. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” she began, looking down at her menu quickly. “Oh, gosh, I’m a terrible dinner guest. There’s a lot of fish but I’m allergic. I’ll find something, one second.”

“I can order for you, if you like,” he offered. “Just the one allergy?” 

Hermione nodded. It was nice– to turn her brain off like that. 

When the waiter returned, Hermione nearly choked on the wine that she had been sipping. Draco was speaking French.  

“ Nous aurons le menu dégustation de sept plats ,” he said, not skipping a beat. “ mais pas de poisson pour ma femme, sinon nous aurons un problème.”

“ Compris ,” the waiter said with a nod before taking their menus. 

“ Merci .” 

“That… that sounded perfect,” Hermione said, short of breath. 

“It was,” Draco smiled. “I was raised bilingually.” 

“Oh,” Hermione remarked into her wine glass.

The food was delicious and the courses tiny, as every fancy restaurant’s dishes should be. They included lamb, cassoulet, pasta, and vegetables, and Hermione often felt like she was eating artwork rather than food. 

Between courses, Draco refilled her wine and even took pictures of her on her digital camera. She couldn’t stop herself from giggling. 

“A private boat tour, a private museum tour, a special bookstore, dinner in the Eiffel Tower…” she mused. “Is this what it’s like to be an innocent young woman on a date with a Malfoy?” 

“Think about that often, darling?” Draco asked with a smile. 

Hermione rolled her eyes, though she was probably as red as her wine. 

“See, then you ruin the moment by being a smug little arse,” she told him, throwing him a dirty look. 

He hummed excitedly. “I do love it when you call me names.” 

“Well, darling, thank you for allowing me to come along today,” Hermione said playfully, raising her wine glass. “It was the best day I’ve had in a long time.” 

Draco clinked his glass on hers and she allowed the smug smile on his face this time. He had given her the day of her dreams in Paris. The least she could do was be a little nice about it. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just run to the loo before our dessert comes,” he said, getting up. 

Hermione used the alone time to continue staring out the window at the magnificent view. It was a once-in-a-lifetime sight to behold, and she was not going to take it for granted. 

Except… she couldn’t stop thinking about Malfoy. If she hadn’t come with him… would he be sitting at this table by himself? It was the most coveted table in the place; right in the middle of the grand window, unobstructed by the Eiffel Tower’s infrastructure. Would he have gone to the bookstore alone or simply spent more time in the Louvre? Was he really one to take an hour-long boat ride by himself? 

She propped her elbows up on the table as she mulled it over, jumping a bit when they started vibrating. 

Malfoy had left his mobile. 

Hermione looked over to see who was calling. If it was Theo, she certainly would have answered to see how he was feeling. 

Unfortunately, it was Jonah, so she had to let it ring. When it was done, she stole one more glance at the screen. 

15 missed calls. 

Fifteen! 

She certainly was lucky, then, wasn’t she? To be the one dining in the Eiffel Tower with him when he couldn’t even pick up the phone for anyone else. 

Deciding to bask in that delicious feeling, she savoured the last hours of the night. They shared the chocolate souffle, finished the bottle of wine, and took the long way back to the hotel. 

Hermione’s feet were screaming with only ten minutes of the walk left, so she slipped her heels off and jogged to catch up with Draco again. 

“Granger, where did your shoes go?” he asked. 

“They were trying to kill me!” she told him, shaking them in his face. 

“Right, hold this then.” Draco handed her his Shakespeare and Company bag, which she juggled between her heels and her own bag. 

She squealed as she was lifted off the ground with no warning. Malfoy had picked her up like she was as light as a feather, one arm under the crook of her knees, the other cradling her back. Hermione quickly wrapped an arm around his neck, hitting him in the shoulder with all of her books. 

“Sorry!” she gasped. 

Malfoy chuckled. “I think that might have been one of the most reckless things I’ve ever done,” he said. “ Lifting Hermione Granger… what was I thinking?” 

“I won’t bite,” she told him with a smile. 

He carried her all the way to the hotel, fixing her dress as the slit opened up and exposed her thigh. His had pushed the fabric back up and held it in place. 

For what would hopefully be the last time for the night, she was absolutely red in the face. She could feel the eyes of passersby on her as she was carried like royalty through the sheets of Paris. 

The smile only dropped from Hermione’s face as she saw the tour buses pulling up to the hotel at the same time as them. 

“What are they doing?” she asked him. 

“Just getting back from the venue, it looks like.” 

“But… It was an off-day.” 

“No, it wasn’t,” Draco told her with a crooked smile, setting her down on the ground.

Then he was off, his long strides taking him right into the hotel lobby. 

“Draco!” she called, running after him “Wait! What do you–” 

“Ah, here they are!” Theo announced. He was sitting in one of the lobby chairs directly facing the entrance, like the hotel’s bouncer. 

“Oh, what great timing,” an unfamiliar voice added. Draco was leaning down to hug whoever it was. “As soon as we’re leaving .” 

When he pulled away, Hermione was once again slapped in the face by her years at Hogwarts. 

Though she looked incredibly different, that was undoubtedly Pansy Parkinson sitting right in front of her. Black hair, sharp cheeks, and legs so long even Hermione wanted to drool. 

“Granger,” she purred, a smirk upon her face. Was that a qualification to be sorted into Slytherin? Then she rose to her feet to place a kiss on Hermione’s cheek before taking up her seat next to Theo again. “I like your dress, where did you get it?” 

“Oh, um, I transfigured it actually. It was just a sleep shirt before this,” Hermione laughed nervously. 

Pansy’s eyes sparkled. 

“That’s quite impressive,” she said. “Have you considered finding a fashion job in Milan?” 

“Oh, hush, Pans,” Draco said, waving his hand at her dismissively. “Granger is far too smart to be making clothes.” 

Pansy’s eyes landed on Draco with a glare straight out of a muggle horror film. 

“Funny, isn’t it?” she began. “How poorly you treat one of your best friends after ditching her to have a romp around Paris all day. Even though it’s where she lives.” 

“I see you all the time,” Draco told her, finding an empty seat next to Theo. 

“And you’ve also been sharing a hotel room with Granger for the past month. Don’t think you see her enough?” Pansy asked, but there was no malice in her voice. In fact, the dark-haired girl turned back to Hermione with a nicer expression. “Not mad at you, just the twat.” 

Draco looked towards Theo with an exhausted look on his face. Theo simply shrugged and finished off the drink sitting on his knee. 

“What? You know I never leave a juicy detail out of my stories,” he said. 

“Hermione?” 

That voice. So familiar yet she hadn’t heard it in years. Oh gods, of course. 

“Neville!” Hermione exclaimed, running up to her (extremely tall and incredibly built) school friend and wrapping him in a hug. She held him at an arm’s length when she pulled away. “Merlin, I haven’t seen you for years. You look so different!” 

What has happened to the dorky little boy with all the wrong proportions? The man before her could have been one of the half-naked models she’d seen on billboards all around Paris today. He had light facial hair, contouring his manly face in a rugged way. 

“You never come to visit!” he said, and she was thrilled to find that at least his voice still sounded as dorky and slightly high-pitched as it used to. 

“I work at the Ministry,” Hermione sighed. “This is my first time away since… well, since I started.” 

“It’s alright, don’t worry,” Neville smiled at her genuinely. “Ginny always writes and sends pictures. And I got all your Christmas cards!” 

“So you’ve been well? What is it you do again?” Hermione asked. “Ginny told me you own a shop... oh, what was it?” 

“It’s a sex shop,” Pansy cut in. “And a plant shop. Well, he does have some sex plants too.” 

“Yeah, it’s lovely. All Pans’ vision. I’m loving it,” Neville said. “And er- now that you’re all here…” 

He walked over to where Pansy was sitting, coming around behind her and lifting her left hand from her lap. Suddenly, a glamour was dropped and Pansy’s formerly empty fingers sported an absolute boulder of a diamond ring. 

Hermione was certain it was the first time she’d ever seen Pansy Parkinson smile. 

“We’re getting married,” Neville gushed. “Oh, don’t tell Ginny, I haven’t said anything yet.” 

“I won’t,” Hermione said quickly, her heart bursting. “This is amazing! Congratulations, you two.” 

Theo had already snatched Pansy’s hand out of Neville’s and he was staring at the jewellery with his jaw nearly on the floor. Draco raised his eyebrows and nodded at Neville.  

“Well done, Longbottom,” he said. “I’m very happy for you, Pansy.” 

“You better be,” she told him, giving him a wink before rising to her feet. “Well, that was the big news. We waited for you guys to get back to announce it. But we’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Come by the venue early,” Draco told her. “I’ll have you pampered and give you all my attention.” 

Pansy placed her hands over her heart like she was incredibly touched. 

“Why don’t you come to the shop tomorrow, Granger?” she added. “I’ll show you around and then we can head to the venue together.” 

Hermione agreed and bid the happy couple a goodnight. All that was left was Hermione, Draco, and Theo, who was grinning like an elf. 

“Alright, you two, I know your day isn’t over,” he said, getting up from his seat. He slapped Draco on the shoulder. “Have fun, be safe, and I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Malfoy led Hermione to the elevators shortly after Theo was gone and suddenly, after a day of just the two of them, she felt her stomach twisting at the concept of being alone with him. 

There was so much she wanted to ask. Had he planned this day just for her? Getting dressed before she was awake had been part of the ruse? Why hadn’t he mentioned pansy was coming? Theo was in on it the whole time? 

“I can hear you thinking,” he said as they stepped onto their floor. “If you want to get mad at me for lying to you and manipulating you into some alone time, I’ll take it like a man.” 

Hermione shook her head, still gathering the words she wanted to say. There was something… that foreign feeling again. She was smart enough to know what it might be. But she’d prefer to stay too naive to acknowledge it. 

“So, you really just ditched work, then?” she asked. 

“What will they do? Fire me?” 

“Fair enough.” 

Their room had been cleaned and made up since they’d left that morning and the large doors to the balcony remained open, letting in a cool breeze and the sounds of Paris. 

“Shall we finish the day how we started it?” Draco asked, conjuring a champagne bottle and two thin glasses. 

“Let’s,” Hermione agreed, hoping just one more glass of alcohol could drown out her thoughts. 

They stepped out onto the balcony, where Malfoy poured them each a glass and they clinked them together before taking a sip. The Eiffel Tower was in the centre of their view, and Hermione could hardly believe that they had just been inside there, eating a seven-course meal. 

“I really– I really don’t know how to thank you enough,” she said, looking up at Draco and tucking her blowing hair behind her ear. 

“No need,” he told her, wrapping his arm around her back. 

His hand snaked to the front of her dress, landing at the very top of the high-cut slit. His fingers on her bare skin immediately had her heating up between her legs. 

“No, really,” she said, catching her breath a little. She stared hard at the Eiffel. If she were to look up at him right now, surely her head would blow a fuse. “It was probably the kindest thing anyone has done for me in a while. And after everything… it means more coming from you.” 

“You’re being nice,” Draco said, and she could hear the smile on his face. 

Idly, she placed her free hand over his, pushing it further into the slit of her dress until it was inches away from the apex of her thighs. Her breaths were erratic, her chest heaving quickly. Finally, she looked up at him, to find that his eyes had already been on her. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. She must have looked like a fish out of water. 

“I really want to thank you,” she breathed. 

“I guess I couldn’t stop you,” Draco replied, his eyes flickering to her lips. “It is the polite thing to do.” 

Hermione moaned under her breath and vanished her champagne flute. She threw herself on him, wrapping her arms around his neck so tightly that she had nearly picked herself up off the ground. Her lips were on his, releasing all the tension he’d been building in her all day. She wasn’t rough with him, but she certainly wasn’t tender either. He let her lead and groaned as she sucked his bottom lip between her teeth and pulled slowly. He must have vanished his own drink as well, as she felt both of his large hands on the small of her back, pressing her against him.

It wasn’t enough. The more she leaned into him, the more she wished she could simply mould their two bodies together. She scrunched their noses against each other, raked her fingers through his hair, rubbed her thigh up against his. Then her fingers came down to trail his jawline, his neck, his shoulders, his abdomen, and fell on his belt. She undid it quickly, her hand moving at an alarming rate as it broke through his button and zipper and stuffed itself into his pants. 

She continued to assault his mouth with kisses as she pumped his hard cock between their two bodies. But then she struggled to kiss her back, his mouth falling slack with soft moans. 

Hermione wasted no time in getting on her knees and tugging his trousers and pants all the way down. His cock sprung out, landing right in front of her face, and she realised in a quick moment that she could easily pick him out of a lineup of a hundred other men. With the lights off. Using only her hand. 

She took him into her mouth with a groan, feeling her cunt set ablaze. Sucking his cock was quite the workout for her jaw, but she was more than happy to do so, especially now. If he’d really spent all that time putting together a tour of Paris for them, he deserved to get milked to the bone right on the balcony. 

Using both hands to wrap around him at his base and jerk him off, she was able to bob her head far more comfortably over what remained. Her cheeks hollowed out and she swiped across the ridge of his tip with her tongue, lapping up the taste of him. She wanted to wring him dry and swallow every last bit of cum he was able to give her, but she knew he wouldn’t let her. He’d want to please her too, with more than just his mouth. 

A gentle hand landed in her hair. Instead of tugging, it just rested there, making the back of her head tingle at its tenderness. 

“Baby, you’re so good at this,” Draco purred softly. “I love this fucking mouth of yours. I’ll miss it.” 

His remark made her falter. 

Miss it. 

She’d been avoiding the thought up until now, but what about what he’d said to her in the mirror? What would she do when he wasn’t around to fuck her anymore. 

Or worse… how could she leave him, letting another woman hold his cock like this? 

The thought pissed her off. She began sucking faster and wringing her hands around him with more force. Draco inhaled sharply through his teeth. 

“Baby, ” he whined. “Come on, get up, let me see you.” 

She did as he said, rising to her feet and wiping the wetness from her lips. With half-lidded eyes, Malfoy reached forward and found the zipper at the back of her dress. He gingerly pushed the spaghetti straps off of her shoulders, and the whole thing slipped off, pooling around her feet. She stood in front of him in nothing but little lacy knickers. The admiration on his face was enough to soak them through right away. 

Hermione grabbed him by his tie, yanking him backwards into the room with her. When they reached the couch, she shoved him down. He was far gone– slumping like a ragdoll at her will, his cock sticking straight up. She straddled him and began to unbutton his vest and undershirt. His tie she kept for herself, putting over her head with the knot still intact. 

“You know, I would have shagged you either way,” she told him, trailing her fingers over his scars. “I was never a material girl.” 

“That’s real classy, Granger,” Draco said, but his voice was weak. 

She had the upper hand and it was absolutely thrilling. 

All she wanted to do was kiss him all over and thank him a million times and fucking devour him. 

“Ready for me, Malfoy?” she said with a grin, pulling her knickers aside. 

He nodded, mouth hanging open, and gripped her hips hard. With one hand, she lined his tip up with her entrance and began pushing herself down. 

Since he’d been nice to her all day, she decided to treat him nicely too, rolling her hips slowly until he bottomed out. Then she placed her arms around his neck and began scratching his scalp slowly. The way he moaned almost took her out. 

Well, this certainly wasn’t helping her remain naive to her feelings. 

His eyes were locked on hers, his pale cheeks tinted with a rosy pink, his fingers ghosting over her bare skin. A small whine escaped her each time her clit dragged over his abdomen.

Draco planted his face between her breasts, peppering kisses there for a moment before looking up to meet her eyes again. He stared at her, full of lust, his breaths short and shaky. 

“Oh, Hermione ,” he moaned lowly, biting his lip. “ Tu me rends folle.” 

Her cunt clenched violently around him. 

“ Fuck, ” she muttered. She was done for. 

She picked up the tempo of her hips, rocking into him harder and faster until he was digging his nails into her arse to keep her from knocking herself off the couch. She was holding on to him by just the hairs at the nape of his neck, forcing his head upwards, exposing his throat. His lips were swollen, his hair a mess, his eyes half-open. 

The hottest man in rock and roll, falling apart beneath her. For her eyes only. Moaning like she’d never heard a man moan for her. For her ears only.

The orgasm rushed through her body, knocking the wind out of her. With a short scream, she came around his cock, and he supported her as she arched her back, thrusting her breasts directly into his face. When she tried to resume riding him, she found that she no longer had control over her own legs. 

“I want– I want your cum in me,” she breathed heavily. “But my legs… they’re too shaky.” 

A crooked smile formed on his face. 

“That was the best formal ‘thank you’ I’ve ever gotten,” he told her, his voice raspy. “I’ll take it from here, love.” 

His hands left her arse for the moment to tighten the tie around her neck just hard enough to choke her. 

“I like you in green,” he said, before lifting her up by the arse again, spreading her open. 

She whined against his hard grip and her neck twitched against its restraint. Holding her up above him, he began pushing his hips upward, driving his cock into her with the same force she’d been riding him, threatening to split her right down the middle. She gasped desperately, her cunt clenching around him all the same. 

It had been nice to show him that she could dominate too, but this was definitely her favourite way to take him. Suspended with no control over what he did to her. She grabbed him hard, leaving his shoulders and pectorals a burning red colour. 

The post-orgasm sensitivity was too much, she felt like her legs were going completely numb. He met her eyes as they started to water, a few tears spilling over onto her cheeks as she choked out cries through her constricted windpipe. 

“ Dra– co …” she choked. 

“ Prends-moi chérie,” he whispered. “ Tu peux me prendre dans tous les sens.” 

She wanted to call him a bloody twat. Just because she came once after hearing him speak French, didn’t mean she was going to do it again. But she was never the best liar. 

She doubled over, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder and bit down on him there, where his skin curved into his neck, trying to stifle another scream. 

His thrusts became choppy and he breathed roughly in her ear. 

“Finish with me,” he rasped. 

She nodded, her face still buried in his skin. 

Draco let out a sensual moan, slamming Hermione all the way down on his cock in a swift motion. A surge of tears left her eyes in tandem with a whine, and she was filled beyond capacity as the product of both their orgasms combined inside of her. 

They stayed attached to each other until their breaths came easier and Hermione stopped trembling. Only then did they face each other once more, Draco’s limp cock still inside of her. 

Hermione loosened the tie around her neck, breathing freely once more. 

Then, for some reason, she leaned down and kissed him again. 

Once. Softly. 

Hermione woke up to that familiar ache between her legs and an empty bed. Draco left early to make up for playing hookie yesterday. 

As she dragged herself into the bathroom, she saw her digital camera propped up on the hotel dresser. She stuck it into her bag before she left, thinking she should get some pictures of Pansy and Neville to show Ginny. 

Theo was waiting for her in the lobby. 

“Hey, did you have a good time yesterday?” he asked, nudging her with his elbow as they waited for their cab. 

“Yeah, it was great,” she replied, busying herself with adjusting her crossbody bag. She doesn’t look at Theo, but she’s sure there is a mischievous smile on his face. 

The store was in the heart of Paris, nestled between two other shops, each with a steady flow of customers. 

“Are they closed?” Hermione asked, seeing their blinds down and dim lights inside.

Neville opened the door then, motioning them inside. 

“Welcome in,” he said cheerfully. “We’re closing for the day so we can head to the venue. We usually have a muggle girl who works the front, but she’s a Draco fan and she asked for the day off.” 

“Small world,” Hermione chucked. 

“ Too small,” Pansy chimed in, emerging from the back of the store. 

She was wearing a black body suit with a scooping neckline and frankly, she looked perfect. She always looked perfect at Hogwarts, even in their mandated uniforms. But she’d also been quite unwelcoming back then, a permanent scowl on her face. Now, she’d grown into her features, softening them a little, though her cheekbones still looked like they could slice someone open. Her black hair fell just past her shoulders and parted into curtain bangs on her forehead 

Hermione looked around at the store, taking in the eccentricity of the decor and products. The windows were filled with many different plants, which Neville was tending to. Various table displays littered the rest of it, holding crystals, candles, and even tarot cards. On the back wall was a plethora of sex toys and a few mannequins that wore stunning lingerie. 

“I make the lingerie,” Pansy said, leading Hermione over to the rack. “That’s why I mentioned the job in Milan. I started there, working for a designer, but I don’t work very well with others. I got frustrated and quit to start my own store. I can’t be a name brand now, but we have a really decent following because of the quality. You’re more sociable than me, though, so I thought maybe you’d be able to handle it.” 

“I could never work in fashion,” Hermione told her. “Besides, this looks like artwork. So, it’s a muggle store?” 

“Thank you,” Pansy smiled, running her hand over some of the fabric. “And it’s both. This is the muggle storefront. Regular plants and some basic sex toys and things. Makes us a lot of money. Back here…” 

Pansy led Hermione through a small archway that opened up into another room just about the same size. This room had plants as well, though they were definitely magic plants. They moved in various different ways and produced a strong scent of chocolate.

There were more sex toys back here, but they were distinctly magical. Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a wizarding sex store. Transfiguring dildos, charmed vibrators, and even more lingerie. 

“I made the lingerie so that it can be ripped to shreds,” Pansy said with a chuckle. “Afterwards, it stitches itself back up perfectly so it can be reused again. Neville wouldn’t stop ruining my bloody expensive sets.” 

Hermione remembered how shocked everyone had been when Neville had told them all he’d started dating Pansy Parkinson. No one really knew her in school, other than being Draco’s on-again off-again girlfriend, which admittedly, didn’t put the best impression of her in everyone’s minds. 

But it was Neville . Everyone trusted his judgement. The shock soon subsided into happiness for him as he announced he was moving to France to be with her as she finished her studies. He was just another friend who moved away for his significant other. It hadn’t mattered who that significant other was. 

“Would you like something?” Pansy asked. “You can have your pick of anything in the store.” 

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” Hermione shook her head. “Thank you, though. Your pieces are really stunning.” 

Pansy shrugged. 

“I figured as much,” she smiled. “Considering who you’re shagging, you don’t need much help, do you?” 

“I, um—“ Hermione stuttered, peeking through the archway to see if Neville had heard. 

“Oh, please, he doesn’t judge, he shags me for Merlin’s sake,” Pansy said, waving her hand dismissively. “He didn’t bat an eye when Theo told us you two were dating. I didn’t either, really.” 

“We’re not dating,” Hermione said quickly. 

“Okay... You know it would be fine if you were?” 

“I know,” Hermione cursed herself for how hasty she sounded. 

Did she though? 

“You should text him,” Hermione said, desperate for a subject change. “I feel awful you didn’t see him yesterday. I had no idea.” 

“No worries,” Pansy shrugged. “Besides, I’m much more interested to see this guy who fucked with Theo.”

They rejoined the guys, where it looked like Neville was explaining the purpose of a muggle butt plug to Theo. 

“Can I have this?” Theo asked, turning to Pansy. 

“Go on, then,” Pansy nodded. “Let’s go listen to some shit music.” 

On their way out, Neville wrapped his arm around Hermione’s shoulder. She opened her mouth to ask the question that was hot on her mind, but thought better of it. 

She wanted to ask why he hadn't been surprised at the idea of her and Malfoy dating. But she wasn’t sure she was prepared for the answer right now. 

Enough. 

She was just overthinking or something… maybe she needed to eat. 

Hermione had Neville fill her in on every single detail of his life that she’d missed these past few years. Until the minute the show started, she had him talking her ear off so she could be free from the thoughts swirling her mind. 

Pansy and Theo went off to hang out with Draco, only arriving a few minutes before his set. Hermione snapped a few pictures of Neville and Pansy on her digital camera, including up-close photos of the rock on her hand to show Ginny once Neville officially told her.

The four of them watched from side stage as the house lights went out and the music started. 

Hermione almost missed it, as her eyes had been on only Draco. But as Collin ran him a guitar between songs, Pansy flicked her wrist and his pants went flying down to his ankles, sending him face down into the stage. 

There was laughter amongst the crowd and crew members alike as the guy scrambled to pull his pants back up and hurry off stage, chucking the guitar in Draco’s direction. 

Theo struggled against holding in his laugh, his hand finding Hermione’s in a death grip for support. 

Hermione loosened up at the sight, letting the concert atmosphere sink into her bones. By the time the show was nearly over, she was dancing and singing along with Theo as Pansy and Neville got ready to say their goodbyes and beat the rush. 

“Thank you so much, Paris,” Draco said, breathless into his microphone. “Thank you for having me. The city of love. I feel it. I definitely feel it.” 

Chapter Text

Hermione had taken a motion sickness pill. 

So why did she still feel sick on this godforsaken bus? 

It was a feeling in the middle of her stomach– like an apple core rotted beyond recognisability. Or like someone had tied up her insides and was knotting them harder by the second. Or perhaps like she’d swallowed a shaken soda can. 

Whatever it was, it made the nine hour bus ride from Paris to Milan completely unbearable. 

She shook her leg and tapped her fingers as she read, hoping to subdue the feeling, but it only made her more anxious. She bothered Theo and found that her voice was giving her away. Her hand hovered over her cell phone, but she never let herself pick it up. 

After a while, she groaned in frustration and laid back in her bunk, and stared at the boring white wall above her head. 

“Okay, you’re freaking me out,” Theo said, his head appearing next to her as he bent down to look into her bunk. “What’s the matter?” 

“I don’t know,” she said quickly. It wasn’t a lie. She had no idea why she felt the way she did– seconds away from screaming at the top of her lungs. “I’m just antsy. I need to get off this bus and run a marathon or something.” 

Theo considered this, ultimately frowning. “Can it wait until tomorrow? We don’t get in until nighttime and I’m not sure how safe Milan is for pretty girls running alone.”  

Hermione shot him a dirty look. “I don’t actually want to run, Theo. I just… have a lot of pent up energy for some reason. But not the good kind. I don’t think so, at least.” 

“Alright, that’s it,” Theo sighed, pushing himself back up to a standing position with a grunt. “You’ve officially lost your mind. It happens, you know. Tour drives people insane. You’ll be back to normal eventually.” 

He went back into the main bus area and Hermione heard some clinking of bottles. When he came back, his thin, tattooed arm reached down to hand her a vial. He said nothing, but Hermione knew what it was. Calming Draught. 

“Are you sure?” she asked. 

“Please,” he replied. “You haven’t sat still for hours.” 

The potion worked plenty fine, allowing Hermione to relax enough for the rest of the travel day to coast by, albeit still uncomfortably. 

However, there was a true antidote to her suffering.  

An antidote that went by the name of Draco Malfoy. 

When they arrived in Milan, he waited for her, as always, in the lobby with their room key. He took her bag, held the elevator open, and asked how the ride had been. 

“Fine,” she lied, smiling. 

“Quite a scenic route, yeah?” he prompted. 

“Oh… very,” Hermione replied, hoping it wasn’t a trick question. 

She hadn’t looked out the window once. She had been too busy wondering why her nerves were at an all-time high, like they were right now. 

“Sleep at all?” Draco asked, pushing open the door of the hotel room for her. 

“No.” 

“Me either,” he yawned. “I’m getting straight in bed.” 

Hermione agreed, and the two of them changed into their pyjamas (in Draco’s case, he slipped off his clothes until nothing was left but his pants). 

Even after brushing her teeth, washing her face, and getting under the covers, Hermione still didn’t feel quite right. Almost like she wasn’t in control. She had long since ruled out the idea of motion sickness. 

When Draco got in the bed beside her, his warmth teased her. She could feel it radiating off his thigh, just a few inches away from her under the covers. Before she could make the impulsive decision to scot closer, he spoke up again. 

“So, you know what Pansy said?” he asked, turning towards her and leaning on his elbow. He propped his head up in his palm and Hermione felt scandalised as her eyes ran over his bicep and what was exposed of his chest. 

Not just turned on like usual, but… flustered.  

“About you finding a fashion job in Milan,” Draco continued, naive to the racing thoughts in Hermione’s head. “Would you ever consider that, or not at all?” 

“Oh, um,” she began, meeting his piercing eyes. “I don’t think so. I love my job, believe it or not. It may stress me out to the point where everyone can see it, but… I can’t imagine doing anything else. Once I get promoted to a higher level, I’ll be able to make more of the changes I want. I can’t just expect to step in and immediately rewrite the system, you know? But it’s coming. I’m going to see all my passions come to fruition. I wouldn’t change it for the world.” 

Draco nodded. 

“Good,” he said simply. “I mean, nothing wrong if you wanted to do something simpler, obviously, I would’ve helped you look while we were here. But your mind was made for the Ministry. It would be a shame to know that the brightest witch of her age had absolutely no say in legislation. It feels… right.” 

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “Definitely feels right.” 

Except she wasn’t sure if they were talking about the same thing. 

She bent her knee, touching his thigh under the covers with it. Draco smiled at her, dropping off of his elbow and immediately scooping her into his arms. She buried her reddened cheek in his bare chest and tangled their legs further. 

It had been weird; a nine hour bus ride without him after they had just spent a whole day together out in Paris. He had felt so… far away. Even though she knew they were both travelling on the same tour– his tour– she had been relieved to see him again. There was no way she could just lay there without being close to him. 

Draco’s large hands grabbed her head, massaging her scalp, as he placed kisses into her hair. Slowly, he moved down, peppering the feeling of his soft lips over her forehead, her cheeks, her chin, and down to her neck. She rocked her hips back and forth on him lightly, feeling his length harden through the thin fabric of his pants. As he sucked at her pulse point, he used his left hand to push some of her curls out of the way. 

Hermione noticed something she hadn’t before– a tattoo on his forearm that was darker than the rest. She grabbed his wrist before he could retract his arm and took a closer look. 

The tattoo was of a bouquet of roses in different shades of mauve. If she squinted hard enough, she could see some dark lines beneath the colour and they were pulsing like veins. Her lips parted with a small gasp and Draco disconnected himself from her neck. He looked at her with wide eyes– searching. 

“Does it hurt?” she asked quietly. “Harry’s scar– it hasn’t hurt since the war.” 

“Yes,” Draco breathed, not breaking eye contact. “It hurts often.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Hermione said, her heart dropping. 

“Don’t be. I deserve a permanent punishment for letting it onto my skin in the first place.” 

“Don’t say that,” she shook her head. “Maybe I should look into the magic. There might be a potion to dull the pain.” 

Draco chuckled lightly before catching her lips in a kiss that made the shaken soda can inside of her finally burst. 

“Stop it, Hermione,” he told her. “You don’t need to do anything about it. At least it’s covered up.” 

She nodded solemnly, still looking at it. “Why the roses?” 

He laughed again, this time more nervously. 

“Well, I took the Mark for my mother. That’s what I say, at least. I justified it back then with the fact that if I didn’t, someone would have hurt her. Maybe that’s true, maybe not,” Malfoy said honestly. “So I thought it would get it covered up with something for her as well. Something nicer. She used to breed magic roses back at the Manor. It was her passion.” 

“That’s beautiful,” Hermione said, finally letting go of his wrist. “You really love her.” 

“Yeah,” he said idly, stealing one last glance at his forearm before trailing his hand down Hermione’s shoulder and grabbing her own forearm. Her first instinct was to jerk away, but she only jumped a little as he ran his fingers over her own scar. “Doesn’t make it any better, though. How about yours? Does it hurt?”

“No,” she told him. “And honestly, I kind of hate it. I forget that it’s there and I don’t think that’s very fair. What good is a war without scars?” 

“Don’t say that,” he echoed her words from earlier, dipping his head down to place kisses over the fading word etched into her skin. “Good. It’s good that it doesn’t hurt.” 

She wanted him. Her cunt was throbbing, soaking her knickers through straight onto his thigh. But she found that she didn’t want him to stop talking softly. She didn’t want him to stop looking at her with his blown out pupils. She didn’t want him to stop embracing her. 

Hermione pressed her palms flat into his back, pulling him closer, allowing his warmth to travel over the rest of her body. His observant nature succeeded again, as he didn’t intensify anything. Instead, he ran his palms over her arse gently, feeling every inch of it beneath his fingers. Then they came around her hips and slipped under her shirt, finding her bare breasts the same way. He cupped them softly, brushing his fingers over her nipples. Hermione took a deep breath, melting into his touch. Melting into the way he seemed to know her so well. 

“Can I ask something else?” she tried. Draco nodded. “I noticed that you still wear your Malfoy signet ring even though you don’t really go by Malfoy anymore.” 

He nodded, turning to grab the ring off the nightstand. When it was between them, he twirled it in his fingers. It was so shiny– she never would have guessed it was passed down through so many generations just from looking at it. 

“For a couple reasons,” he told her. “Firstly, my mother still wears hers. It alerts the men of the family if the women are ever in grave danger. Gods forbid, but I like to have the safety of knowing. But mostly I wear it because I don’t think it’s very fair of me to completely forget where I came from… who I was.” 

Hermione watched him slip the ring on his finger, continuing to twirl it around with his thumb. 

“That’s… very mature,” she said, her breath catching. 

“You sound surprised,” he grinned. 

“Sorry, that’s not how I meant it,” Hermione shook her head. “I just–” 

“I know,” Draco said, planting his lips on hers again. 

He was painfully gentle, turning her insides to mush. She could have fallen asleep like that, kissing his lips, drifting off right in his arms. But then his fingers were at it again, trailing down her back, making her arch into him. His hand gripped her thigh, hitching it onto his hip. Hermione was reminded of the wetness between her legs, the spreading of her thighs letting a cold air in. 

Draco’s fingers ghosted over her knickers, touching her impossibly lightly. Hermione moaned into his mouth, blindly searching for the waistband of his pants. As she pulled them down, she had to scoot backwards to make room for both of their hands down there. And the length of his cock. 

There was already precum on his slit, which she spread with her thumb. His fingers became rougher, pulling at her knickers until he grew too frustrated with them and vanished them instead. Herrmione giggled against his lips, but was cut off by her own gasp as something cold touched her clit. 

“Lucius always told me that the ancestors were watching,” Draco whispered, his lips still brushing against hers. “He said they were with me always, their spirits tied to the Malfoy ring.” 

Hermione held her breath as she realised he had spun the ring around to be facing inward with his palm. He circled it gently on her clit, the grooves of the engravement sending jolts of pleasure through her body. 

“I hope they’re watching now,” Draco said with a gravelly tone that spurred Hermione on, her grip tightening on his cock. “I want to show them what I think about their stupid fucking ideals.” 

Hermione groaned. She never thought she’d be turned on by the thought of grinding her clit on a thousand-year-old pureblood family heirloom, but now she wanted to ride it on Draco’s finger until she couldn’t remember her own name. 

Draco took her enthusiasm well, slipping a finger inside of her. She pumped his cock as best as she could with one hand, her other arm still pinned under him from their embrace. He pressed his forehead against hers, their eye contact intensifying the feeling coursing through her. 

They were pleasuring each other, silent if not for their moans and gasps. Draco’s eyes were striking, as if they were looking straight into Hermione’s soul. For a moment, she was hypnotised. 

She pumped him harder and faster as he stuck two more fingers inside her, thrusting them with power and precision. When he started to bend them, she saw stars form around his face. 

He was… so beautiful. 

“Draco,” Hermione whined. 

“Hermione,” he sighed in response, then continued. “Hermione Granger. When I entered the muggle world, I had intended to use them. My little fans. My desperate followers. I could have any of them that I wanted. An entire world of women throwing themselves at me. I didn’t need the past. But it all came back to you, didn’t it? Hermione Granger. Gryffindor. Brightest witch of her age. Golden Girl.” 

Hermione’s hips were jerking involuntarily at the masterful way he stroked inside her, her eyes nearly going cross-eyed. She’d barely processed his words, let alone come up with a response. 

“It’s always been you,” he told her as the release washed over her. 

She let out a high pitched moan, her knee hooking tightly around Draco’s hip. When the world stopped spinning, she found that he was still looking at her, his gaze unwavering. He lifted his hand up to his mouth, sucking the product of her orgasm off her finger with a moan like he’d just tasted something delicious. His tongue darted out, lapping up the rest of it that was stuck in the grooves of his ring. 

“You’ll have to bottle some of this up for me, okay?” he asked, burying his hand beneath the covers once more. 

Hermione was in a daze as he placed his hand over hers around his cock, steadying it. His grip was hard and his breath shaky as he helped her finish him off. His whole body shook as he came beneath the covers and he buried a low groan in her lips. 

This time, she did drift off to sleep that way. 

Hermione vaguely remembered Draco getting out of bed early. The sound of the running shower had lulled her back to sleep, and the next time she awoke, she was alone. 

And she felt positively ruined. Like she had been hit by the tour bus itself.  

She stared at the ceiling, her eyes travelling slowly across the intricate design.  The Milan room was small but cosy, though it did feel a bit vacant now. 

That anxious feeling that had plagued Hermione the previous day and night began to grow again as  her mind recounted her previous night with Draco.

She’d wanted to wrap herself around Malfoy and never let go. She wanted to be the only sight his eyes would ever hold again. She wanted him to still be next to her. They could stay in this hotel bed forever. 

Hermione’s stomach plummeted as she felt the smile on her face. 

It fell the way that she had for him. 

She covered her face with her hands, shaking her head and rubbing her eyes firmly, hoping she’d come back to her senses. But she hadn’t had those for a while. She’d replaced them with Draco Malfoy. 

“Fuck,” she said aloud, her heartbeat picking up. 

She fucking liked Draco fucking Malfoy. 

Not his pierced cock, not his tattooed skin, not the way he shagged her. She liked him.  

Hermione’s mind was moving a mile a minute, like it always did when she was coming up with a solution for a hard project at work. She pushed the panic out of her way and began rationalising her current reality. 

Well, she’d already shagged him, so no problem there. 

He already knew she was a witch, so no secrets to be kept. 

They’d made amends and come to terms with who they used to be to each other– done and done. 

The prospect of how he felt? Well, he probably liked her too, right? 

She mulled over their day in Paris together, how he had lied about it being just for himself. How he’d carried her home, bought her books, and put his friends on the back burner for her. 

Then there was last night. 

It’s always been you.  

Hermione’s cheeks were red hot as she pulled the covers over her head. 

Gods, so much for casual rough sex. She could nearly hear Ginny’s giddy screams travelling all the way from London. This certainly had not been part of the plan. 

She remained under the covers for quite some time, her body heating up and tingling at the thought of seeing Draco later. She was going to walk right up to him and kiss him and not care who saw. She’d hold his hand in front of everyone. Ask him if he felt the same. 

Suddenly, she felt like a fourth year again, grinning under the covers in her Gryffindor dorm after Viktor Krum had just asked her to the Yule Ball. It was quite the spectacle. 

Should she call Ginny? Talk to Theo? Perhaps she should– 

Her mobile buzzed on the nightstand, making her jump. 

Quickly, she threw the covers down and sat up, grasping the phone like her life depended on it. There was a text from Pansy. 

Hi! Did you have a chance to look at the photos you took of Nev and I the other day? I would love to see them. 

Hermione had nearly forgotten. She’d snapped so many photos with her digital camera and hadn’t so much as peaked at them yet. 

One moment, I’ll upload them now and send them over!  

Something quite like butterflies in her stomach lingered as she crossed the room to get the camera and laptop out of her bag. She settled back onto the bed and immediately began uploading the photos, anxious to know if any of them would be up to par with Pansy’s taste. 

A smile grew on her face as she flipped through the photos in reverse chronological order. There were some of Theo dancing beside Pansy backstage as she looked quite annoyed– she wasn’t exactly a fan of Draco’s music. There were a few of Neville holding up his VIP pass– he’d quite liked feeling like rock royalty. Then there were the ones from the shop– Neville and his plants, Neville and Pansy, Pansy’s engagement ring, Theo holding up some crass sex toys, and landscape shops of the street their store was on. 

When she reached the first non-Pansy-related photo, Hermione let out a gasp. 

It was her at dinner. But there wasn’t just the one. 

She’s known Malfoy had taken a picture of her holding her wine in the restaurant as well as one on the boat from that morning. But in between those two, there was a plethora of photos Hermione had no idea Draco had snapped. 

Ones of her speaking to Eden about the Louvre’s art, some of her admiring the Mona Lisa, a few of her reaching for books at Shakespeare & Company, and even some of her staring up at the Cathedral of Notre Dame. It was the day through Draco’s eyes. And it was beautiful. 

Hermione curled up in a ball, holding her legs close to her body and burying her hot face into her knees. She couldn’t stop smiling. 

As she flipped back and forth through the photos, her heart soared. This was how he saw her. He took the time to actually see her. The man who was stopped for fan photos all around Paris had secretly been taking them of her, Hermione Granger. 

She attempted to shake off her giddiness as she requested an email from Pansy, and forwarded her all of the photos from their time together. 

Obsessed with these, thank you! Pansy texted her. 

“Okay,” Hermione told herself with a sigh, closing her laptop. “I can’t just sit here all day and squeal like a little girl.” 

Though, as she dressed and prepared for the day, the smile was still tugging at the ends of her lips. She couldn’t wait to see Draco that night. Would it be different? Would she confess how she felt to him? Would he reciprocate? Would they– 

Hermione’s phone began buzzing again, but this time it didn’t stop. She finished tying her hair up and ran to catch it, answering the call without checking who it was first. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, ‘Mione,” a familiar voice answered. 

“Harry!” she replied before wrinkling her nose. “What time is it? Are you at work?” 

“Yeah, uh… I just got here and wanted to tell you something I just overheard…” Harry began. “A few higher-ups– honestly, I don’t even know their names, just see them around the Ministry sometimes– just came up to me and asked about the vacation you’re on.” 

“Okay? What about it?” Hermione asked, not understanding the hesitance in her friends’ voice. 

“Well, it wasn’t just a friendly conversation starter,” he explained. “They were curious about why you’d taken off for so long.” 

“I got the time off approved with no questions asked,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. The Ministry was always second-guessing themselves. It seemed like none of the departments were aligned. 

“No, I know that, Hermione,” Harry told her. “They know that too. I think… maybe they’ve gotten word of what exactly you’re doing.” 

Now Hermione’s heart dropped. “You mean–” 

“Listen, I’m not sure. But I think they knew more than what they’ve been letting on. Have you been seen in pictures with Malfoy? Have you talked to a lot of people who might be trying to figure out who you are?”

“I–” Hermione swallowed hard. “I mean, I suppose it’s possible.” 

“I’m worried, Hermione,” Harry sighed. “I don’t want you to lose this job, I know how hard you fought to get it. I just… is there anything you can give me that I can use to vouch for you? A cover-up story? Maybe you can send something to me that makes it look like you’re on vacation. Gods, that’s stupid. I can’t think of anything else, though.” 

“No, no, please, don’t try to make anything up,” she said quickly.  “I don’t want you to lie for me. Let’s just hope they leave you alone from now on. I’ll handle it.” 

“I’m such an idiot, Hermione. I should have told you this was a bad idea before you left,” Harry continued, sounding disgruntled. “I just thought you’d be behind the scenes. If even just one muggle stumbles too far in the direction of the wizarding world… ugh, you can’t lose your job because of Malfoy. You can’t. I’ll– I’ll–” 

“I won’t,” Hermione snapped, shutting the conversation down quickly. 

If only she believed that herself. 

Her head was already racing with solutions,arguments, and the absolutely catastrophic ending that this tour could have on her life. Perhaps she’d underestimated the Ministry. She didn’t think they’d catch the slightest whiff of what she was doing. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears. 

“When is the tour over, anyway?” Harry asked, pulling her back to the ground slightly. “When do you get back?” 

“I don’t even know,” Hermione said, realising she hadn’t the slightest idea of how far into this tour she was. “Let me look.” 

She sat back down on the bed, flipping her laptop open once more, navigating her way to Draco’s website page. The last tour date listed on the landing page was back in London, two weeks from now. 

“Eighth of July I’ll be back,” she told Harry. “Maybe I’ll even stop in the Ministry that morning to explain. Do you think they’ll–” 

Her voice dropped as her eyes scanned over the other tour dates. 

“Hermione?” Harry prompted. “Did I lose you? 

Her breaths were short. “Harry, I have to go.” 

She barely heard him mumble a goodbye before she snapped her phone closed. 

Suddenly, the hotel room felt impossibly small and claustrophobic. She checked Draco’s website again, to be sure she wasn't mistaken. 

With a pang in her heart, the fear was confirmed. 

After Milan was Australia. 

They’d already made it to that leg of the tour. With so much else going on, Hermiolne hadn’t even realised how close to her parents she was getting. She’d done nothing yet. No research, no planning, no emotional preparation. And what about bracing herself from disappointment? 

Nausea bubbled up inside her as she forced her feet to carry herself to the door. She needed fresh air. 

She had planned to explore Milan a bit by herself that day. She’d meant to knock on Theo’s door and ask if he’d go shopping with her. But now… she knew she needed to be alone. 

Hermione wandered aimlessly around the city, barely taking in the beautiful sights around her. She felt more like she was watching someone else explore from miles away. She couldn’t stomach any food, eventually throwing away a panini and her espresso that she’d spent far too much money on. 

It seemed the city was mocking her as she watched families walk by. Couples and their young children, adults and their elderly parents, families spanning a few generations. 

And then there was just her. 

Much like her work at the Ministry, Hermione knew her lack of research was going to bother her until she did something about it. 

With a bit of heartbreak for her time wasted in Milan, she headed back to the hotel, where she buried herself away in the dark computer room on the bottom floor. 

Her fingers hesitated on the keyboard for a moment. It was almost too painful to type out their names. She closed her eyes as she did so, only opening one slightly to find the ‘enter’ key. 

Her screen flooded with pictures of strangers and an endless mess of links. It seemed that the names Jean and Dan Granger were quite popular. 

In the search bar, she added ‘DDS.’ 

This narrowed it down a bit, bringing up a reasonable number of dental offices. Hermione opened all of the ones based in Australia in new tabs. Once her browser was entirely overcrowded, she began searching the websites one by one. 

Hope was leaving her rapidly as she found that most of the websites either contained little to no information or hadn’t been updated in years. A few of the dental offices were closed permanently. 

The computer lab had no windows, and Hermione was its only user the entire time she was in there. With her mobile buried deep in her bag, she had no idea what time it was or how long she’d been staring at the screen. 

Eventually, when her eyes were burning and her posture growing slack, she saw something that made her jump. 

Her mother.  

Before her on the screen was a picture of her beautiful mum, dentist’s robe on, smiling for her headshot. 

Her father’s picture was below, his signature goofy grin plastered on his face. 

She’d found them. 

Tears began pouring from her eyes as she looked at them, her hand reaching up to touch the screen. 

It had been so long. 

Hermione had given her photo albums to Molly for safekeeping a while ago, as the thought of her parents’ photos sitting under her bed every night was too painful.  

One time, Molly had put some of the photos on display around the Burrow for their Christmas dinner, but it had ended just like this– with Hermione in tears.

They looked exactly how she remembered, yet somehow  like complete strangers. 

When she finally peeled herself away from their images, she explored the rest of the website to get the address and hours of their dental office. The site contained pictures of what seemed to be a beautiful place; just her mother’s style Some things clearly hadn’t changed. 

The tears had barely dried from her eyes as she caught a glimpse of the bold red words. 

Permanently closed. 

Hermione choked on the sob that escaped her then, feeling tears roll down her face at an alarming speed. She quickly exited out of the browser and buried her head in her arms against the keyboard. 

This couldn’t be happening. 

She’d come so far. 

How could she have been so foolish? 

She’d dropped everything to work a rock and roll tour, chasing after what she knew to be a far-fetched dream of seeing her parents again. Now, she was closer to them than ever before, yet somehow farther away. 

She couldn’t even console herself with the idea of Draco– Harry’s call had all but squashed that as well. 

Even if his gestures meant more than just wooing his on-the-road fling, she could never accept them. Her job would come first; this time, every time, and always. 

There was not a single inch of her that had any motivation to get up. There was no food in her body providing her with energy of any sort. So there she stayed, staring at the old computer desk, until she fell asleep. 

Hermione’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of a door opening. 

The room was impossibly dark, so she simply closed her eyes again. 

Her arms were aching from  resting her head on them, and she could feel the friction burns on her cheeks. . Her back was sore and her hips stiff. Still, there was no getting up. 

“Fucking hell, Granger,” someone sighed. She heard footsteps coming closer to her, before stopping with a hand on her back. There was silence before he spoke again. “Draco? I found her. One level down, the computer room.” 

Hermione heard a phone snap shut and she drifted back into a half-sleep again in the time it took for Draco to make his way down to the room. He sighed from behind her as well. 

“Scared us half to death, Granger,” he said. “We thought you’d been kidnapped.” 

He scooped her up easily, just as he had in Paris. Her arms fell lazily around his neck, her face nuzzling into his shoulder. He smelled so nice. 

Once back in their room, he set her down, pulled the covers over her, and said goodnight. 

Hermione was glad Draco was gone again in the morning, as she woke up with an immediate groan. 

The memories of the day before hit her immediately. Her parents, Harry’s call, her feelings for Draco. 

Everything had been overshadowed by guilt, dread, and grief. 

As she stared at the ceiling this time, there was no blushing or giggling to be done. 

She was horrified that there was even a possibility that she’d put her job at risk. And that her parents were completely beyond her grasp. And that there was a world in which she’d return home and forget about Draco Malfoy– again. 

No. No, there had to be a way. She could fix at least one of these things. It just wasn’t logical for everything to fall apart all at once without at least one solution. 

If Hermione Granger was one thing, she was persistent. 

Her mobile was filled with messages from Theo asking where she’d been yesterday and when she’d be heading to the venue today. Against her better judgement, she ignored him for the time being. 

Instead, she found herself down in the computer room again, her parents’ names back in the search bar. 

Instead of looking for their office again, she looked for their social media pages. 

MySpace had been a bust, as she should have guessed, but Facebook presented her with a few private accounts. One Jean Granger with a blurry, far away photo caught her attention. 

It was a couple in the profile image. Though she couldn‘t see their faces well, she recognized the blue shirt on the man. That was undoubtedly her father’s favourite blue button-up, adorned with a pattern of teeth all over it. 

He’d always worn it to formal events, much to her mother’s disdain. He was playful like that. And he knew Jean secretly loved it; she had married him for his quirkiness. 

Hermione smiled, wishing she could see the photo more clearly. 

Upon clicking her mother’s profile, something else caught her eye; a short and sweet bio. 

Founder, Dental Organics. 

A clickable link followed the words, taking Hermione to a very lively site. It looked like…a storefront. 

For sale on the site were homemade toothpastes, mouth washes, and even eco-friendly floss containers. The tears came again as her eyes searched all the products. Jean had always wanted her own small business, and now she had one. 

Clicking around, Hermione found a section titled “blog” from the drop down menu. She choked  out a sigh as she saw a post with yesterday’s date on it. 

They’d be selling their products at a maker’s fair in Sydney. The date was June 30th– the date of Draco’s first Sydney show. 

She was going to see her parents. 

Hermione collected all the information about them and the fair that she could, jotting it all down in her notebook. Once she had everything she needed, she rose from her seat, feeling a little less weighed down than before. 

As she closed her notebook, however, she caught a glimpse of some of the notes she’d taken about Malfoy’s tour. She still had an article to write. 

And if the butterflies in her stomach at the thought of him were any indication of how that was going to go, she was going to have a hard time writing something unbiased. 

She took her seat again, her fingers paused above the keyboard. 

Maybe she could fix this too…

With a deep breath and her eyes closed, she typed it in. 

Draco Black with girl. 

The gasp that escaped her lips at the results was sharp and painful. 

Images of the two of them flooded the screen. 

There they were– Draco and Hermione– captured candidly all over. Out and about in Paris, leaving venues late at night, eating lunch at rest stops, and even kissing in front of the fans that had waited after the show to see him. 

There was no anonymity. It was her. Curly hair, freckles, sundresses and all. 

Article popped up, which Hemrione skimmed through in a panic. 

Who is Draco’s Mystery Girl? 

Draco: Summer Fling or Onto the Next Thing?

Draco’s Exes and His Newest Girl. 

Does Anyone Know the Identity of Draco’s Rumoured Girlfriend? 

Fans Panic As Draco Dates Again. 

She had to stop herself before she got too far. With all the coverage from different outlets… surely someone had found her by now, no? She didn’t think she’d be able to face the devastation of seeing her identity confirmed on the muggle internet. Couldn’t watch her career slip out from underneath her at the hands of her childhood enemy-turned-fuck-buddy-turned unrequited crush.

She just couldn’t.

The next time she saw Draco, he was on stage. And she did not, in fact, walk up to him and kiss him,  confess how she felt, or give him a chance to reciprocate it. 

Instead, she swayed when Theo tried to dance with her, answered his questions when he asked them, and made sure her eyes were on anyone but the beautiful blonde man on stage who had become the object of her confusing affection. 

And when she walked back to the bus, she walked alone, instead of with her hand in his. 

Chapter Text

5 Days Until Sydney 

Had the circumstances been different, Hermione might have used the ungodly long plane ride to do something productive. 

Instead, she stared out the window for hours on end, looking at nothing but darkness and eventually clouds until the sun rose and she had to close the shade. 

Then she turned to reading, getting through two of the books she had picked up at Shakespeare and Company. She tried for a third until the weight of Theo’s head on her shoulder became too heavy to ignore and she fell asleep as well. They awoke to find that a flight attendant had placed a blanket over them. 

The whole band and crew had flown in first class this time, so they had extra legroom and wider seats, sitting in pairs. Hermione couldn’t help but look across the aisle to where Draco and Elijah were sitting. 

Draco had the window seat, his head leaned up against the wall of the plane, fast asleep. She hated that he was so close yet so far away. And she hated that even if he was closer, she wouldn’t do anything about it. 

That left the last couple of hours of the plane ride to be spent staring at the seat in front of her, wondering what she was even going to say to her parents. And if she even had the guts to say anything at all. 

Was Gryffindor bravery forever? 

When they finally arrived at their hotel after what felt like the longest plane ride known to man, Draco made it extremely hard for Hermione to keep her head on straight. 

He gave her a tired smile, his eyes soft and his hair mussed up. 

She loved having his attention. It was like a high. 

Knowing that no matter how many girls he saw around the world and how many stadiums he electrified, that she could still capture his attention without even saying a word was a type of magic she hadn’t felt before. 

A magic she wasn’t allowed to wield. 

She asked him as he settled into the bed closest to the window and she stepped into the bathroom where she couldn’t see him. 

“Draco?” 

“Hm?” 

“I think I’ll sleep in the other bed tonight, okay?” 

There was a long pause. 

“Okay.” 

He was asleep when she got out of the shower. 

4 Days Until Sydney 

As much as she wanted to stay inside, wrapped up under the hotel sheets, Hermione knew she would regret it if she skipped out on a day of exploring Brisbane. 

Brisbane Entertainment Center was newly redone and required a few extra days of work to make sure everything would go smoothly, so crew had planned a group excursion into the city before setup would commence. 

Jonah had bought them all tea and coffee from the cafe in the lobby before they headed out to their first stop. 

The Brisbane Botanical Gardens were absolutely beautiful, with vibrant plants and a huge vivarium straight out of a muggle science fiction movie. Hermione found herself smiling, but everything seemed so far away. 

As she looked at the greenery, she wondered if her parents had ever come here. 

When the bird chirped, she thought about her mother’s birdbath at her childhood home. 

As insects larger than life crawled by, she remembered how terrified her father had been of them. How was he fairing down in Australia with all these monsters? 

Someone nudged her shoulder, making her jump. Hermione turned to find Theo with his hands in his pockets. His eyes glittered with the reflection of the vivarium. 

“Did you guys have a fight?” he asked. 

“Who?” Hermione asked absentmindedly. 

“Who else?” Theo motioned his head to his right. 

She followed his gaze to find Malfoy idly listening to a Jonah story as the man pointed out a bird in the distance. 

Hermione scoffed. “A fight?” 

“You know, not one of the ones that leads to you getting shagged on a balcony, I mean a real fight,” Theo told her. “He’s miserable Marie over there.”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times– rendered speechless, apparently. 

“You saw that?” she asked. 

“Will you answer my question please?” He rolled his eyes and nudged her again. 

“No, no fight,” Hermione told him. “I just… oh gods .” 

“What did you do?” Theo asked, his eyes widening. 

“Nothing!” she said defensively. “I just slept in a separate bed last night.” 

Theo blanched. “It’s worse than I thought.” 

“Will you relax?” Hermione sighed. “We’re not together. I’ll just tell him he did nothing wrong.” 

She could still feel his eyes on her as she walked over to Malfoy, rescuing him from the spectacle of Jonah’s latest performance. A few of the other guys were hanging around as well; he wouldn’t miss just one audience member. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you know,” Hermione told Draco, leading him away from the crew. 

“No?” he asked. 

“No,” she replied simply. 

“Then…” 

“I don’t really want to talk about it, Draco,” she sighed. 

From the corner of her eyes, she watched as his shoulders slumped and he put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Hermione exhaled sharply through her nose. 

“Not now,” she added. 

He remained silent. 

“Gods, Draco, will you stop looking like a kicked puppy?” she begged. “Is this how the whole tour would have gone if I had stopped sleeping with you?” 

“About accurate, yeah,” he replied finally. 

“A bit dramatic,” Hermione said, trying to sound playful. “But I guess you do have a career on stage.” 

The path through the vivarium made a sharp turn just then, and their conversation was cut short. In front of them was a path of hanging plants, canopied above their heads like the grand entrance to a fantastical kingdom. Bright flowers littered the green masses, creating the most vibrant stars twinkling in morning dew. It was foliage for as far as they could see and the bright glass windows to the outside world faded out of view as they continued down the beautiful path. 

Hermione thought that if things had been different– then, now, and in the future– this would have been one of the most romantic moments of her lifetime. 

Malfoy’s jaw clenched in her peripheral vision. 

As if her mind couldn't have been anymore jumbled up than it already was, Draco continued breaking her heart and simultaneously solidifying his place in it for the rest of the day. 

He kept his distance as they ascended Mount Coot-Tha. He sat a few seats down when they dined at a pub. And he didn’t press her again, even when she hung behind from the group on the Brisbane riverwalk. 

It was lovely that he was respecting her desire for space. It was frustrating that this display of respect just made her want him more. 

Things were tense when they arrived back at the hotel. He held the door of the room over for her, and they were silent as they both began their nightly routines. 

Nights were the worst. They always had been. At night, it was harder to ignore thoughts of her parents– Hermione had learned that shortly after the war had ended. She’d spend nights crying over them until she drifted off to sleep, only to wake up many times throughout the night from nightmares of the war. Though things had gotten easier over the years, she tried to limit her free time before bed ever since. 

Now, the torment behind her eyes was the worst it had been in years. 

“Granger?” Draco’s voice cut through her thoughts, making her jump. 

She was standing in the mirror, frozen, holding a hairbrush up to her head. She must have zoned out like that. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly. 

“I need to sit down,” Hermione told him, suddenly shaky. 

She made her way out of the bathroom and to the beds, setting herself down on the one she had slept in the night before. Draco took a seat across from her on the other bed. 

“It’s, um–” she began, playing with the hem of her sleep shirt. “Do you remember… I told you why I accepted this tour. It was a while ago now, but–” 

“Your parents,” Draco said, his voice low. “Fuck, I forgot. I’m sorry–” 

Hermione shook her head fervently. “No, no, it’s okay. Honestly, I thought we had more time left before Australia. When I realised, it kind of sent me into a spiral. It was better that I wasn’t thinking about it this whole time.” 

“So… Do you know what you’re going to do?” he asked. “Are they here in Brisbane?” 

“Sydney,” she told him. “I found the website for their dentist office. They’re closed permanently but they own a small business now and they’re going to be selling at a market on the day of your first night there. I think I’m going to go see them.” 

“That’s what you were doing on the computer in Milan, wasn’t it?” 

“Yeah. I got scared– it took me a while to find them,” Hermione replied. “I thought… I thought I’d come out here for nothing.” 

Draco inhaled deeply. “Wow. Well, I’m really glad it wasn’t… for nothing.”

Silence fell between them. 

Did he take that the wrong way?

She opened her mouth to stutter out an apology. To say that she had gotten something out of this trip already. That even if she hadn’t found her parents, she wouldn’t have regretted it because… because what? Because she found him? 

No. Whatever was blossoming between them couldn’t continue to grow. 

It had to be just sex or nothing at all. 

“You don’t have to do it alone, Hermione,” Draco continued. 

“I do ,” she told him. 

“Speak to your parents, maybe,” he said. “But you don’t have to deal with the upcoming days yourself. Theo’s here. I’m here.” 

It was nothing over the top. Just a simple statement. A general showing of support. But it made Hermione’s tear ducts swell up again. 

“Thank you,” she squeaked out, fighting against the furious urge to cry. 

Draco smiled sadly and nodded. 

“Well… goodnight, Granger,” he said, moving himself under the covers. 

He rolled over to face the windows. Even though he couldn’t see her face anymore, she still tried not to cry. 

After staring at his back for a few moments, she made her move.

Slowly– and silently– she got into bed beside him. 

She was allowed to have this– comfort from a friend. 

She’d already begun drifting off as her mobile buzzed on the nightstand. Squinting, Hermione reached out and flipped it open. A text from Harry. 

Some white cloaks went into your department today. Closed door meeting for hours. Be careful. 

Now the tears came as they pleased. 

She cried silently, so as to not wake Draco. 

It seemed the politics of the wizarding world would never be on her side. No matter who she was or what year they were in or how long ago the war had ended. 

On tour, Hermione had found companionship in Draco. On tour, they were one. They were whatever they wanted to be. And it was beautiful. 

But when they returned home… they were still a part of two different worlds. 

That was the war. It didn’t care if you were done with it– it was never done with you . It would continue to take and take and take all it wanted. 

Here was Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, scorned wizard, infamous Slytherin. And he was comforting her. Even if the Ministry knew that, they wouldn’t care. The Ministry never cared. 

That was why Hermione had been so determined to be a part of it. She was going to become Minister and change that. Every Minister started somewhere. And unfortunately, that ‘somewhere’ was never abandoning their government job to run away with a rockstar (even if a small part of her did love the thought of everyone’s faces when they read that headline in the Prophet). 

She reached out, finding Draco’s hand and slipped hers inside. 

He must not have been sleeping, because she felt his fingers curl between hers. 

3 Days Until Sydney 

In an attempt to keep her mind off of things, Hermione decided to head to the venue with the rest of the crew and occupy herself with taking pictures of load in and soundcheck.

She wandered around the empty backstage halls, taking everything in. Just a few more shows, and this would no longer be her normal. 

Instead, she’d have meetings in stuffy offices and pull dusty library books off shelves. The Wizengamot would expect her to propose new legislation and stare at her with disapproval. She’d be responsible for the care of all magical creatures, and her staff would await her next assignments.