Work Text:
Hermione wondered if it were possible to physically melt an ice cube from the heat of her ire. It certainly felt possible, given the amount of irritation she was funneling into the small cube that lay within her half-drunk glass of gin. She’d originally ordered it neat, which was likely just as telling of her current disposition, but reluctantly added a singular ice cube to it at the last moment to avoid her emotional crisis from being perceived via beverage choice.
In defense of the location she was currently at, it wasn’t that she didn’t want to be there. She had gone back to Hogwarts countless times over the last decade to visit Harry in his role as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. She also regularly made site visits to oversee how the Post-War Reparation Funds were being utilized, and even served a brief stint as a guest lecturer for Seventh Year students who were looking to sharpen their Ancient Runes skills ahead of their N.E.W.T. exams.
Her problem was actually with the event being held at the school, which she’d been forced to attend, much to her dismay. In her opinion, the concept of the Hogwarts class of 1998 hosting a Ten-Year Reunion felt entirely unnecessary. Most people were coming to have a free night of drinking at the castle—legally for once—and wax poetic about the ‘good years’ while bragging about all they’d accomplished since then.
That was the crux of what burrowed beneath her skin. The ‘good years’ weren’t particularly good for Hermione, and she certainly wasn’t in the business of bragging post-war; not when every accomplishment or Ministry accolade she’d achieved during that time frame was inevitably splashed across the front page of The Daily Prophet anyway.
In addition to that, it was exceptionally easy to keep track of everyone who’d been in their year. Hermione was almost certain she’d had interactions with all of them within the last few months. Well, almost all of them.
As if summoned by her lamenting, Draco’s voice carried above the crowd within the Great Hall. It floated its way toward her, sounding every bit of what she remembered him to be: loud, charming, and the human embodiment of a thorn in her side by presence alone.
Hermione looked down at her glass just as the last bit of ice melted. She’d managed to avoid Draco for the better part of a decade. It wasn’t her proudest behavior, but there was a mutual understanding in it. It was probably one of the only things they’d ever truly seen eye to eye on: in instances where they crossed paths, there had always been an unspoken agreement that one of them would leave. It was easier that way.
“You’ve never been the brooding type,” Harry said as he sidled up beside her at the bar counter.
She hummed non-committally and took a sip of her gin. “I’m not brooding. I’m reflecting. Isn’t that what reunions are for anyway?”
“Reflecting. Sulking. It’s all the same, really,” he proffered with an arched brow. Before she could scoff in offense, Harry continued. “A few of us managed to secure a table if you’d like to join us.”
Hermione swirled the remaining dregs of her drink around the glass. “Well, I really am quite busy,” she noted apathetically. “I mean, I’ve got to drink the rest of this drink, order a second one, and I should probably fuss with my dress at least once or twice.”
“All the makings of a busy evening.” Harry gave the material of her dress a gentle tug. “Come on. It’ll be a good time. I promise.”
Her eyes drifted toward the table in question. For the most part, all the faces surrounding it were regulars throughout her week. Neville, Pansy, and Ron she’d see every Friday at trivia, Luna for tea on Tuesdays, and Blaise was a regular visitor in her office throughout the week for various work-related inquiries. Hermione’s attention fell onto the empty seat beside Pansy and watched as Draco pulled it out and took a seat beside her.
By their rules, she should turn down Harry’s offer and stick to her barside rumination, but it was just one night. Everyone else seemed to be having a lovely time, so she supposed she could make do at least for an hour or two.
Hermione sighed heavily and finished off the rest of her drink before looping an arm around Harry’s. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”
It was a short walk from the bar counter to the table, but she could have sworn that, in that time, she felt the temperature of the room decrease significantly. A notable tension had settled over those sitting around the circular table as eyes flitted between Hermione and Draco.
“Hello, Hermione,” Luna chirped airily. “Harry’s saved you a seat just here if you’d like.”
She smiled politely and settled into the seat. “Thank you, Luna.”
“Of course.” The blond witch leaned closer until she was beside Hermione’s ear while sliding a glass of clear liquid with a lime affixed to the rim to her. “He also ordered you a second drink. He thought you might need it.”
Hermione wrapped her hand around the glass and then looked over at Harry. He smirked his familiar, boyish grin at her and tipped his own drink towards her in a silent toast before slipping into conversation with Pansy.
Perhaps this wouldn’t be so terrible after all. She could easily bounce between Neville on her left and Luna on her right for the majority of the evening, and then excuse herself at a reasonable hour for an early night in.
“So, Neville—”
“Granger…” Draco drawled curiously, interrupting the conversation she’d been about to start.
Her breath hitched at the sound of her name on his tongue. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d said it directly to her. It felt almost foreign to imagine his mouth forming around each syllable without any hint of bite behind it.
She turned towards him, confusion rife upon her features no doubt, and angled her head to the side in question. “Yes?”
The conversation around the table petered off in favor of watching their exchange. He studied her for a long moment before speaking. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“And why is that?” Hermione sniped back.
He briefly sat in the silence and then let his lips curl up into the sneer she’d grown so used to. “It’s a Saturday. I could have sworn that was the day you prepare the list of all the ways you’re going to remind everyone you’re better than them in the week ahead. Although, who am I kidding? You’re probably already done and prepping for the next fortnight.”
“Draco Malfoy—” Pansy scolded with a swat against his shoulder.
Hermione's hand clutched tightly to the glass tumbler as she attempted to hold in her scoff. Instead, she met him with a syrupy grin and tersely gritted teeth. “I could say the same for you. If you’re in here, who’s guarding the ground’s pumpkin patches? I can’t imagine they found another unsightly beast to scare away the crows on such short notice.”
“Hermione, please—” Harry echoed Pansy’s plea for civility.
Draco barked out a cold laugh and took a sharp sip of the brown liquor in his glass. “I put your name down as my replacement, but unfortunately, they were worried the birds might mistake your hair for a nest.”
A reply, which Hermione was certain would have been equally as vicious, was on the tip of her tongue, but Ron quickly cleared his throat and attempted to take control of the conversation. “It looks like they’re starting to play some music. Anyone want to dance?”
“I’ll pass,” Hermione huffed as she reclined into her chair.
A tense look was exchanged between Harry and Pansy. So much for staving off a terrible night.
“I’ll join you, Ron,” Luna replied contentedly. She gracefully excused herself from her seat and rounded the table to take both of Ron’s hands in her own and tug him toward the center of the Great Hall.
“Harry? You and Pansy want to join?” Neville asked as he rose from his seat.
“We’ll be there in just a moment,” Harry assured him before eyeing Pansy with a pointed glance. Hermione watched Neville look between the two of them wearily before slowly nodding and departing.
Draco aside, Hermione was incredibly partial to the current company at the table. If Pansy kept Draco occupied, she’d be free to chat with Harry until he decided to take his fiancée to the dance floor with the others. She decided then that that would be her opportunity to leave for the evening.
As Hermione raised her glass to her lips, content with her new strategy, Draco let out a notable yelp across the table. She looked up at him to see him glaring feverishly at Pansy.
“What has gotten into you, Parks?” Draco asked with bewilderment while clutching his left flank.
She shrugged coyly and took a sip of her martini. “You ignored my foot stomp.”
He let out a heavy sigh and gestured for her to press on. “Go ahead then. What do you want?”
Pansy looked at Harry with a grin and then leaned up to Draco’s ear, whispering something at a volume that Hermione couldn’t make out from across the table. Draco’s face slowly changed from confused to repugnant, but Pansy quickly battered him into submission with another jab at his side.
With a deep breath, Draco leaned away from Pansy and turned his attention to Hermione. “Granger, would you care to dance with me?”
She recoiled at the question that he had been so clearly coerced into asking. “No. I very much would not. Thank you,” she replied with a tight smile.
A second later, Hermione echoed Draco’s previous yelp almost exactly when Harry reached across the empty seat between them and pinched her side.
Her attention shifted to him, meeting Harry’s gaze with a fierce glare. Unfortunately, their years of friendship meant that her scolding looks only worked a majority of the time. In rare situations, such as this one, he didn’t bend to her sharpness. Instead, he arched a challenging brow at her until she begrudgingly conceded.
“Fine,” she huffed under her breath at him before looking back at Draco. “Sure, Malfoy. I suppose one dance would be alright.”
Draco swallowed thickly and rose to his feet before coming around the table to extend a hand to her. His presence beside her felt looming, daunting even, and she couldn’t bring herself to look up at him right away. The idea of seeing his contempt at close proximity churned her stomach.
Hermione hesitantly took his hand and gestured toward the dance floor. “Lead the way.”
She couldn’t remember the last time either of them had been so close to one another. The feeling of his hand in hers as he led her toward the music, and then that hand subsequently coming to rest between her shoulder blades while he held her within arm’s length, was so unfamiliar.
Draco relaxed into the position and let his hand slide fractionally down her exposed back until it rested just above the bunched silk that hung at the lowest part of her spine.
“Is this alright?” he asked with an unexpected politeness in his tone.
Hermione willed herself to settle into his embrace. “It is.”
It was only one dance. If Draco was willing to maintain his respect and composure for an entire song, then so was she.
The enchanted string instruments at the side of the room effortlessly transitioned into a gentle waltz, prompting the various wizards on the dance floor into a gentle rotation. Draco led her effortlessly, gliding his feet in a delicately slow three-step cadence that looked like second nature to him.
As the room moved in a clockwise pattern, he turned the two of them in an effortless anti-clockwise rotation. The others around the room seemed to struggle with the consistent three-four time signature and didn’t stand a chance at incorporating anything traditional into the mix.
“Show off,” she said with a soft chuckle.
He cracked a smile and shrugged. “Yes, well, I’ve had some practice.”
The words brushed over something within her chest, something long undisturbed. She pushed it away and cleared her throat. “I’d imagine a lifetime at Malfoy Manor will do that.”
Draco’s fingers flexed against the small of her back. She watched him carefully as different replies flickered within his eyes, tangling up his decision-making and stretching out the silence between them.
He swallowed thickly and moved her a fraction closer on the next rotation. “I think I learned better in school. I had this excellent teacher in Sixth Year. Wicked little thing who used to keep me after class well into the night to make sure I got all the steps right.”
Before she could stop it, a frown tugged at the corners of her mouth.
Draco’s hold loosened on her just enough for it to be noticeable, enough for Hermione to see the insecurity beneath the surface of his hardened exterior. “Do you remember?”
A shuddering breath passed her lips at the question. She softened at the clear effect his vulnerability had had on him and tightened her grip to make up for the proximity that had been lost.
“Of course, I remember,” Hermione said softly. How could she forget?
He had approached her with the request for lessons on one of their many nights hidden away in the Room of Requirement. Those nights were often spent trying to avoid the approaching war and discussing in secret a world in which they thought they’d never get the privilege of enjoying together.
His mother was going to host a Yule Ball that year to bolster spirits among his family’s social circle. Things had been so tense then as they broached the oncoming war, and she’d apparently thought it would help add some levity to things. Hermione had shared with him about the years she’d spent receiving classical dance training in her youth before attending Hogwarts and asked if she would be willing to help him practice his waltz.
It felt silly to turn him down, knowing what a welcome distraction it would bring, so she agreed.
Hermione let him practice with her several times a week in the seclusion that the Room of Requirement offered them. They did quite a bit of practicing with one another that year, but their dance lessons had felt the most intimate by far.
Their final lesson had fallen on the night before they were meant to take the train home for the winter holidays. While neither communicated it, Hermione remembered distinctly the feeling of dread that at some point, the music would fade and they’d have to go their separate ways. He seemed to realize it, too, and had held her closer. When the music drew to a close, bathing them both in silence, they found themselves with her cheek resting against his chest and his arm banding around her. It was then that Draco had told Hermione that he loved her, and she had been so foolish to think that that would be enough.
Thoughts of their younger selves sent another ache to Hermione’s chest. They had been so safe within the Room of Requirement, but so naive, too.
Music continued to swell around them, and Draco continued to float them around the room while their school-age memories settled thickly in the small space between their chests.
The song was nearly halfway over when Hermione decided to extend an olive branch of her own. She slid her hand down from his shoulder to rest against his lapel and tapped it gently. “This suit is quite nice on you. Some might even say it makes you look handsome.”
“Is that what they’re saying?” he questioned with a smirk. “You did always like me in navy.”
She hummed in thought and then shook her head. “That is deeply untrue. I liked you in any color other than green. It washed you out so terribly.”
“Still does,” Draco admitted with a playful grimace.
Hermione laughed at the unexpected bout of self-deprecation. “At least you’re aware.”
“A steep lesson that was,” he continued. “I had to chuck half my wardrobe in the bin when I realized how pale I looked in photos.”
Her laugh grew as Draco pressed the joke further. She briefly dropped her forehead to his chest to hide the giggles as they spilled from her mouth.
Draco echoed her laughter while his hand dropped a little further down her spine. He seemed emboldened by the comfort of the moment and let his thumb idly rub over the small of her back as he held her close in their slow waltz.
His laugh faded into a soft sigh as he held her there.
For a moment, she considered leaning into it. It had been over a decade since Draco had held her like this. The desire to suspend all rational thinking and live in the memory of who they used to be nearly won out, but something within her slammed the door shut before she could step through it.
Indulging in his familiarity would be neglectful of the pain he’d caused her all those years ago. It would be a cruel injustice to the nights she’d spent begging him to change his mind about the commitments he’d made and to the letters they’d exchanged in the thick of the war, promising that their future would be different than the fate they were currently living.
Hermione stiffened beneath his touch. “Stop,” she breathed out before carefully trying to wriggle out of his arms.
His hand slid to her waist and dug his fingers into her hip ever so slightly in gentle warning. “The song is nearly over. Don’t make a scene.”
Those four words undid a carefully placed bandage of a decade-old wound within her heart. Hermione felt them lance through her, stinging as they ripped away at the protective front she’d crafted that had kept the hurt of Draco Malfoy from permeating any deeper than necessary.
She scoffed and quickly pried his hand off her body before very intentionally making a show of throwing them down to his side. “Nothing has changed with you,” she spat harshly. “You’re still so worried about how others perceive you. Merlin forbid someone has an opinion about you that doesn’t match the image you’ve created so carefully of yourself.”
The truth she’d doused him in left him standing before her with his jaw hanging slack for a brief moment. It seemed to hurt Draco, but it hurt her too. It hurt to fight fire with fire, and it hurt to watch his face fracture over having his insecurity used against him.
He regained his composure a second later, his expression hardening while his eyes grew cold and unforgiving. “Go on then. Why don’t you go back over to the table and nurse another gin and sulk until Potter lets you give your little ‘woe is me’ speech that you’re so bloody fond of.”
Hot tears brimmed in Hermione’s eyes, her tender heart betraying the anger she felt. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing her break down, though. Not if she could help it.
She slammed into place whatever cold defenses she could manage and leveled him with a vicious glare. “Fuck you, Malfoy,” she spat before storming out of the Great Hall.
Approximately ten seconds later, Hermione heard Draco’s heavy footsteps following behind her in the empty corridors of the school.
“Granger!”
Hermione ignored him and turned sharply down the first hallway she encountered. Each step of his pursuit increased her ire exponentially. Merlin help him if he managed to actually close the distance between them.
“Would you stop walking so fast?” His footsteps sounded like they’d lengthened into a fast stride. Good.
Hermione didn’t bother to look over her shoulder as she quickened her clip, heels echoing along the stone corridor. “Seems like that Auror training never paid off. Pity.”
Draco let out a derisive scoff. “This is so like you to run away from your problems instead of dealing with them.”
The insult struck too close to home. Without thinking, she reached down the front of her dress and retrieved her wand, aiming it over her shoulder. “Stupefy.”
Her spell collided with a bust of Falco Aesalon in his animagus form, littering the hall with marble shrapnel.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he bit out as he, presumably, avoided the fallout. “You’re properly insane.”
“Good aim, though,” she mused apathetically.
Before she could enjoy her own retort, Draco let out a frustrated groan and increased his pace significantly. A moment later, he caught up to her and grabbed her roughly by her upper arm, earning an indignant scoff from Hermione.
“Enough.” Draco let out a wry sound of contempt as he dragged her into the closest classroom. “Nobody knows that little miss, buttoned-up, polite Hermione Granger is actually a childish bitch who throws a fit when things don’t go her way.”
The statement, while true and inexcusably rude, had been enough to stun her into a brief bout of silence, which seemed to be precisely what Draco had been after.
He flicked his wrist behind them as they moved into the center of the classroom, causing the door to slam shut and lock behind them. Once he’d done that, he released her arm and made a grand, sweeping gesture to the empty room around them. “The floor is yours, Granger. Have your fill in private.”
Hermione placed a hand firmly on either hip and scowled at Draco. The nerve of him to try to be the bigger person in all of this.
“Of course, you’d want to have this discussion in private. Just like everything else about us was. God, was I ever good enough for you?” She stomped closer to him and harshly prodded his chest as over a decade of hurt and frustrations messily came tumbling out. “Or was I always going to be ‘Malfoy’s shameful secret?’ ‘Draco’s dirty little mudblood girlfriend’—”
“That’s fucking rich coming from you,” he roared back, cutting her off with ferocity burgeoning in his eyes. “You were the one who always made me feel like I wasn’t good enough for you.”
“Bullshite!”
Draco laughed bitterly and shoved her hand away from his chest. “You were constantly harping on me. ‘Do the right thing, Malfoy.’ ‘Stand up for what you believe in.’ Don’t you think I wanted to? You made me feel like a coward because I couldn’t do any of that back then.”
His face had bloomed into a brilliant shade of red, all fury and nasty words etched across his pale cheeks. A vein throbbed in his neck that she eyed as each emotional word was thrown her way. Hermione could only imagine what her own features must look like while her anger consumed her. She could feel magic sparking from her curls, just as sharp and vicious as her tongue.
Her chest pressed firmly against his, and she angled her chin up to look at him, positively seething from their sparring. “You’re still a fucking coward,” she spat.
One of Draco’s hands traced along the column of her neck until it pushed into her curls at the back of her head. His fist closed around her hair and used the grip to angle her back to ensure her eyes were locked with his.
His head lowered down to hers so that the tips of their noses brushed against one another. “If I’m still a coward, then you’re still a self-righteous bitch.”
It was messy and impassioned, but Hermione couldn’t deny that it was also them at their finest. She knew that they’d both changed significantly over the last ten years, but all that they had been through had a funny way of stunting their growth in the places where it counted. Draco and Hermione knew each other at their core.
He had to feel it, too, the suffocating tension, the strain that years of avoidance had put on the already weakened infrastructure they’d created. There was no way he couldn’t.
From such a close angle, Hermione could hear every panted breath that left his mouth. She held her own, too afraid to disrupt the chaotic stalemate they’d reached for fear of sending it into a freefall. Draco, however, didn’t seem to be nearly as concerned with that outcome.
“Such a fucking thorn in my side, Granger,” he exhaled tersely before pulling her close into an unforgiving kiss.
The suddenness of it briefly froze her where she stood, but as Draco’s fingers dug greedily into her waist, she was quick to match his hunger with her own. Her hands wrapped around the lapels of his suit while her tongue licked desperately into his mouth.
“You’re so insufferable,” she sniped into the hollow of his mouth between kisses.
“Right, because I’m the problem here.” Draco’s grip shifted to below her arse, pausing to give it a knee-weakening squeeze before hoisting her up and coaxing Hermione to wrap her legs around his waist. “Why don’t you kiss me a little more and show me how insufferable you think I really am?”
The urge to wiggle out of his arms just to spite him nearly won out, but the temptation of his lips drew her back in. Hermione drove her fingers into his neatly coifed hair and lost herself in the bruising desires of his mouth.
Draco only allowed her a few moments of lustful delirium before stealing away into the space beneath her jaw.
“This still do anything for you?” he asked before nipping the tender skin there, earning a soft whine from Hermione. He smirked and dragged his tongue over the mark. “Yeah, it does,” he mused smugly to himself before doubling down and sucking harshly to create a blooming love bite.
Her hands mapped the broad expanse of his back while he held her and marked her. Every prior hesitation she’d had about keeping Draco at arm’s length was suddenly gone now that she’d been reminded of what it felt like to kiss him and be held by him. How had she managed to go so long without?
“Take this off,” she panted while blindly attempting to unbutton his shirt.
Draco pulled away from her throat momentarily to look her in the eyes. His brows furrowed as his gaze flitted over her face. “Are we doing this?” he questioned, slightly winded from his ministrations.
Were they?
She held onto the question and turned it over in her mind while biting at the inside of her cheek. There were so many reasons to say no. Logically, she knew she should tell him to put her down so they could go their separate ways and go back to staying on the perimeters of each other's lives. It was easier—and far less hostile—that way.
But kissing him brought back a feeling of need that she hadn’t experienced in so long. Hermione couldn’t remember the last time her fire had been met so brilliantly with someone else’s. It fueled her, demanding to grow brighter and all-consuming until they were one engulfing flame. Walking out would ensure that whatever this was would be extinguished, likely for good.
Hermione closed her eyes and whispered her acceptance: “We’re doing this.”
Draco kissed her firmly once more before setting her back onto the floor and making quick work of his shirt buttons. “Bend over the desk for me while I take care of this,” he instructed.
Her eyes lecherously watched the V at the top of his shirt grow wider with each undone button. “No ‘please’ added in there?” she noted with a sniff.
“Let’s save the ‘please’s for when you’re begging me to let you cum, Granger.” Draco arched a brow knowingly at her and then pointed to the table behind her. “Now bend over the desk.”
Hermione’s thighs clenched together at the command. “You’d better make it worth it then, Malfoy,” she quipped back while hiking the bottom of her dress high to pool around her waist.
The edge of the desk fit snuggly against her hips as she hinged over the top of it, crumpling the silk of her dress beneath her stomach. She widened her step, ensuring that the full incentive of their tumultuous explosion was on display for him. If this were to be the only time that they crossed one another’s path like this, Hermione wanted to make it count.
From this vantage point, she could only hear the wounded noise Draco made once his trousers fell to the floor and he took sight of her overly exposed arse. Black lace barely shielded her rapidly dampening core, leaving little to the imagination.
“Had I realized I only needed to show you my cunt to get you to stop arguing with me, I would have done so ages ago,” she mused over her shoulder.
Draco balked as he descended upon her, greedily taking a cheek in either hand and squeezing. “Don’t be so crass.”
She pressed onto the balls of her feet and wiggled her arse within his grip. “Make me say something else then.”
“The next thing coming out of your mouth is going to be my name,” he clarified in challenge before dropping to his knees and wedging himself between her parted legs.
Draco’s fingers roughly grasped either side of her knickers before tugging them down her legs, letting them stretch across her calves. His hands slowly paved a path up her bare thighs while leaning in closer. His breath ghosted over her damp center, causing her to clench tightly in anticipation.
“So eager,” he simpered with a thumb on either side of her cunt, splaying her wide for viewing. “Fucking gorgeous little thing, aren’t you, Granger? Is all of this for me?”
The urge to force her hips back the marginal distance it would take to connect his mouth to her was overwhelming, but she wouldn’t give in so soon. She refused.
His head dipped forward until his bottom lip skimmed teasingly over her clit. “I bet some attention there would feel awfully good.”
She gritted her teeth, his name just on the tip of her tongue. An unsated whine escaped instead.
“Still nothing?” He tutted in disappointment. “Alright. How about this then?” Draco licked a broad stripe from her clit to her pucker before lapping salaciously over the tight rim.
A surprised gasp left her mouth. “Malfoy!”
Draco hummed in amusement and then shifted lower once again to drag his tongue between her folds. “Come on, sweetheart. You know that’s not the name I meant.”
He fixed his lips around her clit and settled into a gentle thrumming suction. Between pulses, his tongue flicked side to side in a rapid swipe, forcing Hermione to clutch onto the edge of the desk for support.
“I won’t do it,” she warned, refusing to let him have one over on her while getting her off like this.
Draco groaned softly so that the rumbles of his moan would echo through her core. “Say it.”
Hermione dropped her forehead to the desk and shook her head as a buckling arc of pleasure radiated through her. “No.”
Two fingers effortlessly slipped into her and massaged intentionally at her front wall in an oscillating cadence with his mouth, earning moan after moan from her.
Not once did she let his name slip, however.
“Stop being so stubborn and say it, Hermione,” he warned before wrapping his lips around her clit once again and sucking so harshly that she nearly screamed from such overwhelming pleasure.
“Draco!”
“There it is,” he cooed while pressing tender kisses against her arse. “Was that so hard?”
Her hips reared against his mouth, desperate for more contact. “More.”
Another thick swipe of his tongue ran over her dripping slit before he doubled down on the thrusts of his fingers. Every motion was done with calculated precision, determined to undo her into a moaning mess. The tips of his fingers repeatedly grazed over something incendiary within her, leaving her gasping with each movement.
Her body rapidly felt as though it were losing control of itself. Heat swelled within her lower belly so intensely that she thought she might burst before ever getting to feel the orgasm she was on the cusp of.
“Really close,” she panted out as Draco’s tongue licked along the edge of where his fingers were twisting in and out of her.
“Yeah?”
Hermione keened and nodded frantically. She could almost taste how sweet the release would be. “Yes.”
At that, his cadence slowed. “You know, maybe I shouldn’t let you finish, given how properly miserable you’ve been.”
A cracked whimper fell from her lips before she could stop it.
Draco’s fingers had all but stopped within her, and he’d resorted instead to a gentle come hither motion as he spoke. “Maybe I’ll leave you like this so you have something to properly sulk about.”
The thought nearly destroyed her in her overly aroused state. “Please don’t,” she begged while unabashedly grinding against his fingers. “Please, please, please.”
“So desperate,” he mused with a chuckle before pulling away entirely and moving to stand behind her. His hand rubbed soothingly up her exposed backside before he shrouded over her so that he could whisper in her ear. “Did you actually think I’d let you finish on anything other than my cock, sweetheart?”
Heat rose to her cheeks, landing her somewhere between being furious that he’d reduced her to begging and deeply eager to see him follow through on his word.
“Let me ride you,” she breathed out into the small space between their faces. “Please, can I ride you, Draco?”
It was difficult to see it in all its glory, but from her angle beneath him, Hermione could just make out the way Draco’s eyes rolled back a little at the request.
“How can I say no when you ask so sweetly, hmm?” In a quick motion, he wedged a hand beneath her stomach and then guided her upright so that the two of them were standing flush with one another. Draco’s lips dragged along the soft curve of her neck before another soft groan fluttered against her skin as if the very thought of pulling himself away caused him some unforeseen pain.
“Alright,” he finally said with a parting kiss over her jugular. Draco stepped away from her and pushed off his pants before laying himself bare across the desk. “Up you go, then.”
Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of him, so boisterous and eager to shag with his cock already weeping for her against his stomach. Two fingers delicately moved each strap off her shoulder, allowing her dress to cascade to the floor. She stepped out of her partially discarded knickers and kicked her heels to the side before climbing onto the desk with his hips situated between her thighs.
“I’m setting the pace,” she clarified as her hand wrapped around his cock to notch him at her entrance. Hermione waited for him to give some sort of acknowledgement, which came in the form of a thick swallow as his eyes roved over her body, before slowly sinking down onto his length.
She bit back a string of profanities in her descent and tried to focus on savoring the stretch of every inch that invaded her so fully. It wasn’t until her neatly trimmed curls were flush with the fine blonde ones at the base of Draco’s cock that Hermione was able to let out a trembling breath and revel in finally having him inside of her after so long.
“God, I did not appreciate this enough in school,” Draco said in a daze as his hands moved up her thighs and over her stomach to explore her breasts. He cupped each of them and shook his head in disappointment while thumbing over her nipples in gentle swipes.
“Oh, trust me. I know.” Hermione shivered and let her eyes briefly fall shut to enjoy the pleasant buzzing his touches created throughout her body before remembering the position she’d put herself in to ensure that Draco didn’t get to have all the fun.
Her inner muscles contracted tightly around his cock, drawing out a truly pained groan of anticipation through gritted teeth from Draco. “Just come down here already, you wretched little tease,” he bit out on the brink of despair. With one hand on her arse and the other cupping her cheek, he pulled her flush to his chest and kissed her fiercely.
Raw need overtook them both once their mouths connected. Hermione rocked backward, seeking a torturous pace that Draco matched with echoed thrusts into her. Desperation drove every bounce. She needed to see him break for her, to come truly undone because of her, and she was certain that he was equally as eager to see the same.
His gaze shifted to the thin gap of space between their torsos and zeroed in on the spot where his cock disappeared and reappeared within her at a punishing speed. “That feel good to fuck yourself on me like that?”
Hermione let out a ragged gasp and nodded emphatically. “Yes! Draco—”
She needed more. She wanted him deeper, as far within her as she could get him. Her hands pressed against his pectorals until she was seated atop him again, and she let her head fall back with a filthy moan as he nudged even further into her.
“That’s it,” Draco hissed in pleasured disbelief. “You’re draining the life out of me with this cunt.”
God, she was so close. Stars were practically bursting behind her lids as he bucked deeper into her on every thrust. Her orgasm was just within reach, and if she truly wanted, she could let herself come right here and experience a toe-curling orgasm while he continued to fuck her senseless. Not yet.
Hermione let out a tortured whine and moved her hands down to his hips before pinning them to the desk. With a deep breath, she slowed her bounces until she was sitting flush to his lap, completely unmoving.
He looked up at her with frazzled eyes that were blown wide from lust and an impending orgasm. “Granger, what the fuck?”
“Shh,” she soothed while trying to keep his hips in place despite their relentless attempts at bucking into her.
Draco’s back arched off the table in indignant defiance while kneading pleadingly at her thighs. “Baby, please. I’m so close. So fucking close.”
“I’m not moving,” she said tightly, trying to stave off her own orgasm as she warmed his cock. “Not until—fuck—not until you apologize to me.”
”Hermione—”
She shook her head infinitesimally around labored breaths. “I mean it. Apologize for all of it, and I’ll let you cum.”
A range of emotions passed over Draco’s face in rapid succession. Disbelief was quickly dislodged by a bout of rage and then superseded by some sort of aroused agony. Part of her wondered if she was being too harsh by coercing him in this way, but before she could think better of it, something akin to a growl rumbled out of him. Draco pressed the crown of his head into the table with gritted teeth, as if the words on his tongue were physically causing him pain to hold them in limbo.
Draco’s face fractured, depicting a pain that didn’t match the raw intimacy of the moment. After a second longer, the floodgates opened.
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” His hands slid to her waist and pulled her down to kiss her raggedly. “I’ve missed you so much, Granger. You can’t even imagine how badly I missed you, and it fucking killed me to know that I could have fixed it any time I wanted by coming to talk to you and apologizing, but I couldn’t let myself have that.”
Hermione gasped from the vulnerability of the confession. Her mind raced to try and process the sincerity, but then his hips began to rock into her at an achingly intimate cadence, and every thought melted from her mind.
His words continued to tumble out at an unstoppable speed. ”I’ve never stopped regretting how badly I broke your heart, Hermione. Not once, but God, I never felt like I was good enough for you, so keeping you away was the easiest option.”
With her focus undividedly on him, he had the freedom to thrust into her harder than before. Draco’s hands anchored on her hips to maneuver her from base to tip in relentless strokes, fucking her full of a decade’s worth of apologies in hopes that one of them would take.
She shook her head furiously and kissed him again. “That was never the case, Draco.” Several gasped ah-ah-ahs brushed over his lips as he repeatedly slammed into her. “You were good. So good, and I never told you that enough.”
“Tell me now,” he encouraged into the hollow of her mouth.
Her heart ached at the request. “You’re good, Draco,” she said as earnestly as she could muster to ensure he believed it.
“Hermione—”
His hips stuttered against hers, briefly breaking their rhythmic cadence as his body tensed beneath her. Hermione craned up to his ear while rolling back onto his cock with every pleasure-ratcheting thrust. “You’re so good, Draco. So good for me. Show me how good you can be, alright?”
Those words seemed to set him alight. He turned his face to capture her lips with his, mouth desperately seeking hers to carry them both over the edge. Draco adjusted his grip on her hips impossibly tighter, his hold on her no doubt leaving bruises as he fucked hard into her, driving her to orgasm.
She couldn’t catch her breath, the cadence of it too maddeningly good. The pleasure felt almost blinding as he practically demanded she reach her peak. Hermione grappled at his shoulders to cope with the mounting sparks, but settled for holding onto the edge of the desk above him as she broke with a loud cry of his name.
”There she is. Fuckfuckfuck—” Draco gritted out while she shook and sobbed with ecstasy. After two more thrusts, he pushed his hips firmly to hers and filled her with three hot pulses on the groaned vowel of her name.
A quiet settled over them as they came down from their respective highs. Draco’s grip relaxed on her hips and shifted to trailing gentle fingertips down her spine. She shivered as a small trickle of their shared spend slipped out from her and dribbled onto the lowest part of his stomach.
Her cheek rested against his chest, and she couldn’t help but think of how similar the configuration was to when they’d been dancing together earlier that evening. The weight of all of their intimate confessions settled onto her then.
They had both been so misguided in their youth. The knowledge they had now of how the war would go and all that it would cost them cast their past in such a different light. If she could go back and do it all again with him knowing what she knew now about what his life was truly like and all that his lack of choices would cost him, she was certain she would have done things differently.
“I’m sorry I ever made you feel that way,” she said just barely above a whisper. “That was never my intention.”
He tensed briefly, his hand stilling along her back above her lumbar. Draco let out a soft exhale and then cleared his throat a moment later before resuming his actions. “It’s fine, Granger.”
Except it very much wasn’t fine to her. Far from it, in fact. She lifted her head and slid folded arms beneath it to prop her chin on. In return, Draco crooked his free arm under his head to see her properly.
”I think I have always felt that I failed you by not being the support you needed back then. You were going through so much, and it…” She sighed and shook her head. “It wasn’t fair of me to expect you just to abandon those things to be with me. I know now how dangerous that would have been, but I was just a schoolgirl who was far too in love to think about those sorts of repercussions. I’m so sorry for ever putting you in that position, Draco.”
He sat reflectively with her apology before tugging his bottom lip between his teeth and jutting his chin toward her in inquiry. “In love, huh?”
“Oh, don’t act so smug,” she said with an exasperated eye roll. “I'm sure you’d have gone and done something foolish like proposed on the bloody battlefield had you been able to sneak into the vaults before everything fell apart.”
“Probably,” he noted with an amused grin and closed his eyes, seeming to savor the levity between them. “We should have had this conversation ten years ago. We could have been shagging like this the whole time.”
She hummed in consideration and then decidedly disagreed. “That never would have happened.”
Draco opened his eyes with an arched brow, all too eager to challenge her. ”How can you be so sure?”
“I'm sure you would have given me another reason to be pissed off at you,” she said with an indifferent shrug before letting a smile slowly leech into her features.
He laughed at that, bright and unguarded. “If this is how we make up, then give me another ten minutes and I’ll give you something to scream about.” Draco punctuated his words with a teasing thrust into her, causing her fingers to splay out wide on his chest as she gasped at the reminder of his cock deep within her.
”Does your mum still have that little cottage near Ben Nevis?” Hermione questioned innocently.
He smirked and slowly sat up, careful to keep her seated fully on him. “She does indeed. I have it on good authority that I am still keyed into the wards there—” He interrupted himself to leave several lingering kisses against her lips, “Given that I live there.”
“Do you, now?” Hermione ran her fingers through his hair and let her heart soften a little to the man she’d loved for the better part of a decade. For the first time since their school years, she saw a future and a second chance. “Take me home then, Draco.”