Chapter Text
On Saturday morning, Draco woke up with Hermione still pressed against him, their bodies deliciously warm in all the places they touched. He felt like the luckiest man alive. Nothing could surpass the sight of her with her head on his arm, their hands clasped together despite the hours they’d spent asleep.
This was the first morning he’d gotten to indulge in the part of himself that wanted to simply lay there and admire how the pale sunlight fell across Hermione’s face. For the last three days, they’d been up before the sun, what with her needing to go back home and change before work and him needing to wipe his shit-eating grin from his face. Then, they’d spent their workdays pretending like the other wasn’t just down the hall or on the other side of the room, frustratingly numb without the feel of at least their hands touching.
And then there was the conversation. She’d forced him to go to the grocery store on Thursday, going with him herself to see that he didn’t waste his money on more instant oatmeal. It had been easy to joke with her in the soup aisle and watch as she studied the tomatoes carefully, only deeming three worthy of rotting away in his fridge. They’d ended up ordering takeaway anyway when they barely managed to put the groceries away before he bent her over his kitchen counter.
Afterward, they stayed up all night asking each other the kinds of questions Draco had always found tedious: favorite colors, favorite songs, which whiskey he preferred, and why. Hermione recounted stories of her parents, and her love for them was evident in how she smiled when she spoke about them. He told her about the orchard at the Manor growing up and how his mum had chased him around, their laughter echoing off the apples in the branches.
That was how it went, with their days spent apart and their nights occupied by their quiet admissions of fear and hopes for the future in between the sound of their bodies coming together again, drawn to each other by some unseeable force that had finally managed to get its hands on them. The same force that was taking over him now, guiding his hand down the length of her side to the curve of her arse, admiring the way she shifted even in her sleep to give him better access to the places he wanted to touch.
Draco knew she was awake the moment she rolled onto her back, smiling as she tilted her head to kiss his bicep before spreading her legs, giving his hand no choice but to follow her silent command.
“I was thinking about your unicorn case,” she said as his fingertips found her clit, still swollen from three nights of being in his bed. Hermione’s smile widened as he teased her with his thumb, watching in abject awe as the blanket slipped to reveal her breasts within easy reach.
“Were you?” he asked, ducking his head to suck a nipple into his mouth, his cock already hard between his stomach and her hip.
“Were all of them killed in the same fashion?”
He didn’t think it was possible to find such a conversation erotic, but there he was, parting her slit with his finger as she asked him about fatal unicorn injuries.
“Stab wound to the neck,” he said, releasing one nipple to give the other equal attention.
“That’s a bit curious, don’t you think?”
Hermione opened her eyes and shifted to prop herself up on an elbow, her knee falling aside to leave him all the room he needed to slide a finger into her cunt. Still wet, still filled with him from the night before.
“Tell me more.”
Draco nipped at her nipple before moving up to her neck, deciding to lavish her with affection there next. No amount of time in this bed, or any bed for that matter, would lessen the pride he felt with each pass of his lips over her skin. She was his now, wholly and irrevocably.
“Have you run any tests on their blood?” Hermione ground her hip against his hand, and he gave her a second finger, curling them how she liked.
“Why?” He hadn’t – not specifically, anyway. He’d tested objects covered in it, searching for lingering magic or anything he could use to track down the poacher. “What do you think I missed?”
She kissed him, sliding her tongue into his mouth to distract him from the hand snaking down her body to his, pulling his fingers from her cunt. Draco blinked, and she’d maneuvered herself on top of him, her palms flat on his chest as she dragged herself along the length of his cock, smirking.
“I don’t know many people who could get close enough to stab a unicorn without drugging it,” she said, an eyebrow raised. “Do you?”
His hands found her waist, and he thrust upward, the tip of his cock finding its way home. Hermione took her time getting herself settled, watching as he had no choice but to lay there and feel her cunt enveloping him inch by inch, somewhere between too much and not enough. It was a miracle his cock still worked. Though Draco supposed there wasn’t a chance in Hell it wouldn’t work if she was the one asking.
“I could,” he heard himself say. “If I had the element of surprise.”
Hermione’s laughter had her cunt squeezing around him, reminding him that he was inside of her and should be doing something about it.
“You’re ridiculous,” she smiled down at him, lifting herself up and then sliding back down his cock. “Though I’m not sure why I expected anything else.”
“That sounds like your own fault.”
Draco guided her hips with his hands, letting her set the pace but unable to keep from touching her.
“Mmm, definitely,” she said with a wink, trailing her thumb along his collarbone. “Shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.”
“No, definitely not.” Draco thrust his hips up hard enough to have Hermione reaching for his headboard to keep herself upright, bringing her breasts back within reach of his ever-greedy mouth. “For once, you only have yourself to blame. How does that feel?”
“So good,” Hermione gasped, clawing at the headboard as Draco sucked a nipple into his mouth. “So, so good–”
Her hand slipped off the wooden paneling, and Draco took advantage of it, releasing her nipple so that he could flip her onto her back, pinning her beneath him. As much as he enjoyed laying back and letting her have her fun, Hermione had mentioned a potential lead on his case, and he was adept at multitasking.
“Now, I believe you were telling me about some crucial piece of evidence I’d missed?” He accentuated his question with a deep, purposeful thrust of his hips.
“I–” Hermione moaned, her nails scraping down his back as he fucked her slowly, needing an answer but happy to torture them both until she gave him what he needed.
“Speak up, love,” he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I can’t hear you.”
“Fuck.” She released him to fist at the duvet, bucking her hips against him until he had no choice but to bury himself as deep as he could in her cunt and hold himself there. “Draco, please–”
“Tell me, and I’ll make you cum.”
Hermione whined, all traces of the confident witch who’d climbed on top of him gone with the promise of another orgasm at his hand.
“Find the potion, find the poacher,” she forced the words out as she writhed beneath him, searching for relief. “It’s really not that complicated–”
Draco pulled out until only the tip of his cock remained inside of her and then thrust forward again, both of them gasping at the pressure already building. Gods, she was perfect – his perfect, snippy, insatiable witch.
“You’re so lucky that I want to watch you cum again,” he mumbled her cunt and his cock teaming up to make whatever plan he’d tentatively formed to torture her with fly right out of his mind.
He should have seen this coming, of course: being unable to tease and torture her the way he wanted because giving her what she wanted felt better than whatever games he thought he’d want to play. Maybe one day down the road, he’d have the restraint necessary to do such a thing.
“I want to cum for you so bad,” she said, reaching to cup his face in her hands and bring his mouth to hers. “Please, Draco, make me–”
Draco sat back on his heels, dragging her with him to keep them connected as he pulled one of her legs over his shoulder, letting him get somehow deeper.
“You have such a pretty cunt,” he said for what felt like the thousandth time as he reached down to circle her clit as he fucked into her with a renewed need to make her cum. “Looks so lovely stretched around me–”
He’d spent so long picturing it, imagining her in every position possible, that the idea of reality being better than fiction hadn’t even crossed his mind. It was the one and only time in his life that Draco had been happy to be proved wrong.
“Yes, right there–” Her hands were everywhere: in the blankets, scratching at his thighs, wrapping around the wrist supporting the hand rubbing faster at her clit. “–fuck, I’m–”
“Gods, me too.” There was no shame in how quickly he was going to finish. She could hardly expect much more from him after the last few days. “Gonna fill you up–”
They came together in a series of yeses, fucks, and each other’s names, both half-delirious with the sensation of her cunt milking his cock for everything it had left to give. He made sure to dutifully fuck her through her orgasm despite his cock’s half-hearted protests, so overly sensitive it was almost numb from how good Hermione felt.
This is how it’s supposed to be, Draco thought to himself as he slid out of her and tried to find room to breathe despite her climbing on top of him, her lips and hands everywhere.
“So when do I get my Auror’s badge?” Hermione asked as she left a thousand and one kisses along his chest and neck, somehow able to form coherent sentences.
She’d mentioned coming to his house, unsure of whether she was going to fuck or murder him. He was sure she’d commit the latter just as easily as she’d done the former.
“Hmm?”
Draco’s eyes fell shut, sleep and post-post-orgasm bliss begging for him to fall back asleep.
“My Auror’s badge,” Hermione repeated, sounding as if she hadn’t just shattered his world and put it back together for what felt like the hundredth time in four days. “You know – because I solved your case.”
“Oi!” He forced his eyes back open and wrapped his arms around her, pulling Hermione flush against his chest where she belonged. “Potter and I have been working on this for months–”
“You’re right!” One moment, Draco was comfortably in bed with his witch, and the next, she was ripping herself out of his arms to begin searching his floor for her clothes. “We should go tell Harry–”
Draco groaned and buried himself further into his bed, pulling both the sheet and the duvet over his eyes. His bed smelled like her, like citrus and honey, and was he getting hard again?
“Come on!” Hermione huffed, yanking the blankets away.
“I try not to make it a habit of seeing Potter if I’m not getting paid.”
He blinked his eyes open and came face to face with Hermione, staring at him. Yesterday’s blouse transfigured into a jumper the same shade of sky blue and her slacks into jeans. Gods, he was hard again. Or maybe he’d never stopped being hard, his body too aware of the witch now making the face she often did before cursing him into oblivion.
“Well, now you get to see him at work and on Saturday mornings for brunch,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Unless this perfect cunt isn’t worthy of such a thing–”
Draco really was in love. And, damn it, he’d never been happier.
He jumped out of bed and wrapped her up in his arms, not even caring about the rough scrape of the denim against his barely holding it together cock. He’d bloody well move in with Potter if it meant getting to kiss and fuck her until his microphone died and his cock fell off.
Which reminded him –
“I already checked,” Hermione giggled, holding her phone so he could take it. “Your fans are equal parts turned on and brokenhearted.”
“What are you, a witch or something?” he asked, taking her phone from her hand and looking at the comments on the audio they’d recorded on Wednesday night. He’d posted it on Friday after removing their names and ensuring he edited Hermione’s voice just enough that no one could tell it was her. Then, he promptly turned his phone off and tossed it somewhere, more interested in the woman who’d sat on his lap the whole time he edited it.
“Or something,” she rolled her eyes and smacked his arse with enough force to make him jump. “Now get dressed; we're going to be late!”
Fifteen minutes later, Draco sat beside Hermione on the train with her feet in his lap as they read over the comments together. Sure enough, the comments seemed evenly split between different variations of holy fuck they both sound so hot, and this is the worst day of my life. Hermione had even found the time to leave one of her own.
thegoldenswot: she sounds like my kind of girl
“And you call me ridiculous,” Draco laughed, using the arm he had looped around her shoulders to pull her in for yet another kiss. “Hermione Ridiculous Granger. It’s got a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“What about Hermione Jean Malfoy?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Gods. Forget ruining her for any other man; she was going to ruin him flat out.
“Eager to get the second divorce out of the way so soon?”
The words had hardly slipped out of his mouth when the train came to a stop, and they’d reached the outskirts of Wizarding London and its Apparition Points. Hermione stood up confidently from her seat and held her hand out to him, beaming.
“Only so I can marry you twice,” she winked. “But don’t tell Harry that – he’s going to have enough of a fit as it is.”
Draco could picture it already: Potter’s glasses sliding right off his nose, that frantic huffing noise he makes when he gets flustered, accompanied by hectic blinking and, in the worst cases, slipping out of whatever seat he was in onto the floor, devolving into a puddle of complaints and whinging. What he didn’t know was how Mrs. Potter would react. After all, she’d been the one who thought taking Hermione out to a bar to meet men was a good idea.
Then again, she’d supported Hermione in divorcing him. Christmas Card Recipient or Foe? Only time would tell.
He let himself be dragged to the nearest Apparition Point and closed his eyes as her magic sucked them into one of the cleanest swirling vortexes of Time and Space he’d ever had the privilege to fly through, dropping them both neatly on their feet just a block away from the café. It wasn’t until someone – Justin Finch-Fletchley – dropped something as they walked past that he remembered that he was Draco Malfoy and she was Hermione Granger, and they were walking clear down Diagon Alley hand-in-hand on a Saturday morning.
This was one of the things he’d warned her about: the attention. If news of her black dress could make front page news, this would surely turn profits for the Prophet for a few days at least. Was she ready for it? Was he ready for it?
“Don’t look at them,” Hermione said, squeezing his hand. “Look at Harry’s face instead.”
Draco looked up and saw Potter and his wife sitting at a table by the window, already staring at them. Where Ginevra had adopted a look of abject shock and excitement, with her mouth hanging open and eyes screaming tell me everything right now , Potter had begun his hiccupping, his glasses skewing dangerously to the left. By the time they made it inside, Potter had taken his glasses off and was massaging his temples while Ginevra clapped.
“Sorry for being late,” Hermione said as she slid into the chair opposite Potter. “I was actually seeing someone last night.”
Draco sat down in the seat beside her, face to face with Ginevra, holding out her hand like they hadn’t met before.
“Ginny Potter,” she said, shaking his hand across the table. “I’m a big fan of your work.”
They’d seen each other a handful of times since school and Robards sticking Potter and Draco together as partners. It would have been impossible to avoid her, given their natural proximity, but he’d perfected the art of staying at a party long enough to be remembered without lingering for too long, and he couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a real conversation. But she was best friends with Hermione and married to Potter, so he leaned back in his seat and tried his best to appear confident.
“Hermione’s obvious post-sex glow or Potter’s goldfish impression?”
He’d named it that after six months of being Potter’s partner.
Ginevra – Ginny, now, he supposed – turned to Hermione and Potter with a shit-eating grin spread across her face.
“You’re telling me this was an option the whole time? ” She glanced back and forth between them before crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s official. The two of you hate me.”
Then, she turned her eyes on Draco.
“What took you so long?”
“Ginny!” Hermione chided her as she reached for a menu, her eyes sparkling in the mid-morning light. “Let’s resuscitate Harry before you start interviewing everyone.”
Then, she laid a hand on his thigh as she browsed the menu like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“I– When did– Malfoy, how–” Potter coughed and then took a deep breath before shaking his head. “You know what? I’m just going to eat my brunch and pretend this is fine.”
“It is fine,” Hermione rolled her eyes as she started scratching at Draco’s knee over his khakis, waking up parts of himself that should be resting. “Sort out which mimosa pitcher we’re getting this time, and not strawberry again.”
Her hand was inching higher up his thigh, taunting and not at all appropriate given the situation. He tried in vain for several seconds to try and read the menu but gave up somewhere around Breakfast and slid an arm around Hermione’s shoulder so that he could whisper, “Unless you want to ruin Harry’s breakfast, I suggest you stop that right now.”
She hummed in response, not bothering to look up from the menu as she slightly tilted her head and said, “Is that a promise?”
His cock twitched in his trousers, aching in the best and worst way possible.
“You sound like my kind of girl.”
Hermione squeezed his thigh, smiling as she offered him her cheek, and Draco had no choice but to lean in and kiss it.
“What are the two of you whispering about?” Potter asked, staring at them with furrowed brows over his menu. Draco kissed her cheekbone, a goodbye for now, before he leaned back in his seat.
“Just that Hermione solved our unicorn case,” he shrugged. “Months of work proven worthless by Hermione’s mind mid-orgasm.”
Potter choked on his own spit and denial, dropping the menu and almost knocking his coffee cup over in his attempt to set it down as Ginny smacked him on the back.
“They’re being drugged,” Hermione said, turning the menu over. “And when you find the poison and catch the poacher, I want my very own Auror’s badge.”
Six weeks later, after countless arguments with Potter, making herself comfortable in his house, and the arrest of the poacher, Hermione did in fact get her own Auror’s badge. And she kept it on as Draco fucked her in his and Potter’s office, with the door unlocked and his microphone lit green in the corner of the room.
“You look so good like this, spread out on my desk for me.”
He was going to marry her, he thought as he pounded into her, his mind blissfully clouded by the sounds coming from her lips and the sight of her nails scratching along the wooden desk in search of anything to hold her steady. In the end, she reached for his hands, dragging him on top of her in her quest to feel more of him.
“You’re going to make me fall in love if you keep fucking me like this,” Hermione whispered, quiet enough that editing it out of the recording wouldn’t be difficult.
“What?” Draco asked, smiling as he pulled her up with him just enough to find the angle that let him fuck her harder and faster without sacrificing the ability to kiss her. “Like this?”
“Gods, yes,” she moaned, nails digging into her shoulders like that would save her from the inevitable. “Fuck, Draco, I’m–”
Her cunt squeezed around his cock as her entire body went taut, breaking apart for him just as easily as she’d put him back together. Draco had little choice but to follow after her, filling her up and almost forgetting the contraceptive charm as he fell back into his chair, breathless but still buried inside of her where he belonged. Hermione was right where she belonged, with her arms wrapped around his neck and lips stealing the very air from his lungs.
“You’re perfect,” he heard himself say, his hands falling to her hips as she lifted herself up and then slid back down on his cock, insatiable as ever.
“I’m just getting started,” she replied, smiling down at him with her badge hanging haphazardly off the blouse Draco had definitely ruined. “Are you sure you can handle it?”
Draco simply kissed her in answer, knowing that nothing short of I love you would be a worthy response. There would be plenty of time for that later. After all, they were just getting started.