I haven't decided if this will be a One Shot or if I will do another chapter or two. I think it stands alone quite nicely but there could be more to be said. Let me know what you think.

Rated M for language and sexual references. Please do not read if you are underage or this bothers you.

More fluffy Dramione goodness (guilty pleasures are the best kind)

Finally, these characters belong to J.K. Rowling. If they were mine I would be on a wine tour in Italy right now instead of cleaning my apartment.

He couldn't believe he had allowed himself to be dragged to a muggle club.

It was disgusting. His ancestors would turn in their graves if only they knew. Okay, he didn't wish to see muggles dead like his crazed father and his Death Eater buddies but he still failed to see the point in associating with muggles.

What could they possibly have to offer a wizard? It was beneath them all to be there.

His very presence there was a testament to the persuasive power Theo possessed. Fucking Theo, he thought, staring darkly into his glass of whiskey.

"You've got to broaden your horizons Draco," he had insisted, "The war is over, our parents fucking failed...A girl is a girl. Plenty of hot muggle girls out there good for a one-nighter," he had smiled wickedly.

Theo had a point. It had been a while since Malfoy had enjoyed the company of a woman. The once great womanizer had felt a bit off his game of late. Well, not so much off his game as much as not really wanting to play said game at all.

The pureblooded witches in his orbit were all the same - vapid, weak willed, whining little gold diggers. He found it tiresome and the idea of enduring their company long enough to get one into bed was too much for him. He glazed over the second they opened their mouths to speak.

Even when he did manage to tune one out into white noise long enough to seduce her the sex was never worth it.

At the helm of the family business tasked with protecting and growing the legendary Malfoy fortune his job was stressful – fucking the stupid little witches had been a good way to unwind. But alas, he was off his game.

And now he was here, in this muggle club, watching Theo pawing some muggle girl like a man possessed. This is a low point Malfoy, he thought.

He did have to admit though, the music was excellent – he also loved the way the dance floor was becoming a mess of bodies, intertwining and grinding feverishly. They never really did this in the wizarding world. Muggle culture was certainly less prudish than his own. He definitely could support that at least.

He was rudely torn from his thoughts when Blaise Zabini, who had also been dragged along on Theo's mission to sleep with half of the female muggle population grabbed his arm and yelled "Merlin! No fucking way!," over the music.

"What are you on about?" mouthed Malfoy.

Blaise grabbed his arm and pointed towards a large raised platform where muggle girls were dancing together suggestively.

"So what?" asked Malfoy, bored by the scene.

"You don't recognize her?" Blaise yelled into his ear.

Malfoy shrugged.

"IT'S GRANGER!" Zabini screamed over the music.

Well, that certainly got his attention. What on Earth was the Gryffindor Princess and darling of the Ministry of Magic doing grinding on a dance platform in a nightclub where sex was clearly the order of the day for most of the patrons.

He quickly made his way a little closer to the platform to regard the girls more closely, careful to stay far enough out of sight, lest he attract her attention.

He was thrown off by the fact that her hair was not the terrible mess it usually was. She also didn't have her face in a book - or Potter or Weasel in tow. That and he'd seldom seen her out of her baggy robes.

But it was definitely her, Blaise had a keen eye.

She was dancing with several other women, all of whom were beautiful, up on the podium. They were attracting the appreciative gaze of half of the men in the club.

Draco felt an unfamiliar sensation inside of him which he hoped was not jealousy. Why would you be jealous of men looking at Granger?

The men were practically eye-fucking her as she moved and making no effort to hide the fact. He wished they would just avert their gaze. He did not like it at all, not one bit.

He knew she knew they were looking, he could see it on the smirk on her face. Since when did she like that kind of attention? What the hell had she been doing in her free time, or rather who? Was she like the female Theo, fucking her way through the muggle population of London?

Speaking of male gazes, Malfoy couldn't keep his off of Granger.

He never really saw much of her in final year as they were both distracted by their respective missions and he had not seen her since – other than the regular articles the Prophet ran about the now famous heroine.

Hermione had developed a stunning hourglass figure which she had highlighted with waist high jeans, a pair of stiletto heels and a top that was so small it was more of a handkerchief. Her brown hair had been highlighted with honey like tones and styled into loose girls which cascaded down her back. Her makeup was lighter than the other girls and she seemed less false than the company she was keeping. She looked better than them, he noted.

Her body moved in perfect time with the music, her tight jeans revealing every wiggle and shake of her hips to the trail of adoring males hovering around, clearly hoping to speak to her and her friends.

Draco would have never picked that she would be a good dancer. Or that she could move her body and hips like that. Or that she had a body and hips like that. He groaned internally. Of course, after a long period of disinterest in women it had to be this witch who awakened a yearning in him.

She wasn't wearing a bra and he could see her breasts jiggle with her movements. The thin fabric of her shirt did little to disguise the natural curve of her bosom. When she dipped down she exposed a dangerous amount of cleavage, much to the glee of the hovering muggles. She looked soft in all of the right places and he had a very sudden and strong desire to bury himself in her.

Her lush body had not gone unnoticed by Zabini either who practically had drool running from his chin. Draco felt the sudden urge to punch him. He resisted, of course.

When the song finished Granger stepped down from the podium, seemingly excusing herself from her friends to take a breather. Merlin, her hips when she walks.

Draco observed a muggle boy immediately swoop in to try to speak with her. It appeared that she wasn't interested and he saw from her hand gesture that the petite witch had politely declined the muggle – much to Malfoy's relief.

Why are you feeling so possessive Draco? A voice in his own head asked.

The boy, not taking no for an answer, attempted to hook his arm around her waist.

Draco hoped she had her wand with her. Not that she was allowed to use magic in such a public muggle venue – but he would sympathise with her if she did. Malfoy could hardly be accused of being a gentleman, but he was raised well enough to know that when it comes to touching a witch, no means no.

The stupid little muggle boy had no idea who he was dealing with. She was of course, one of the three most important figures in the war against Voldemort and every biography and and account of events clearly outlined the fact that Potter never would have made it without her. She could hex this stupid muggle into oblivion without breaking a sweat.

Instead of hexing him (much to his disappointment) she simply gave him a bored look, raised her hand and pushed it into his face before walking off, leaving the boy behind to nurse his shattered ego. Stupid git.

Zabini had also observed the scene and was laughing beside him. "Looks like Granger is still the same, she never did suffer fools easily," he quipped. "She can certainly look after herself," Draco remarked.

Draco saw she was making her way to the outdoor area and decided to follow her and make his presence known. He shot Zabini a death stare that read 'do not follow' very clearly.

Zabini raised his hands in mock surrender.

It was a cold and rainy night so it was nearly deserted outside where she stood. He stood behind her and cleared his throat.

"Looking good Granger, I wonder what Rita Skeeter would have to say about you in this muggle club wearing that," he said calmly.

She spun around, eyes wide like she was a naughty child who had been caught doing something wrong. Malfoy felt a familiar twitch inside his jeans.

True to form, she quickly recovered from her shock and retorted, "Looking good Malfoy, I wonder what Rita Skeeter would have to say about you, a Malfoy, in this muggle club." A small smile escaped her lips.

"Always have something to say Granger, I see some things never change," he said playfully.

"Draco Malfoy, are you trying to have a civil conversation with me?" she asked mischievously. Her lips were stained red and pouting in a way he found to be irresistibly sexy. He could think of a number of uses for that smart mouth.

His calm demeanor never cracked, but internally he was struggling to maintain control. Why did it have to be this witch making him feel this way?

"There is a first time for everything Granger, so how about it? What shall we discuss?" he responded calmly.

"Oh, I don't know, the weather, the state of politics in the wizarding world… Quidditch.." she carried on teasingly.

Malfoy smirked, she wasn't going to make it easy for him. She never did.

"How about we start with what you're doing here, giving muggle boys heart attacks with that outfit of yours," he said evenly.

If she was shocked or intimidated by what he said, she didn't show it. Without missing a beat she answered him with more candor than he was expecting.

"Wherever I go, the Prophet follows. I like to come here to let go and have fun," she said softly.

"What are you doing here? Surely this is beneath you" she asked.

I can think of something I would like beneath me, he thought ominously.

"Well we all have to lower ourselves from time to time now Granger," he said nonchalantly.

"Indeed," she said curtly.

He guessed her change in attitude came from the realization that he really did think this place was beneath him and by extension she and her mudblood was also beneath him. Or so she thought.

He took a step towards her and felt her stiffen in his wake.

The truth was he didn't think she was beneath him – despite her blood status. She had proven herself to be the most competent witch in a generation. Her power far exceeded his own and he knew it – not that he would concede this to her. No, she was definitely not beneath him. The muggle boys in this club were undoubtedly beneath her though, he mused.

She shuffled awkwardly. He hadn't realized he had been staring at her while he thought these things.

He regarded her through narrowed eyes. Scared that she would side step him and leave, he decided to try and engage her in more conversation before she came to her senses and ran.

"How did you hear about this place?" he asked, gesturing towards the building.

She seemed shocked he wanted to carry on the conversation with her.

"My cousin," she said simply. "I actually have an apartment near here so it works out nicely for me to come here because I can walk home," she continued.

A smirk crossed his lips. "Is that an invitation Granger?" he asked teasingly.

A slight flush came across her cheeks. "Of course not Malfoy, I wouldn't want you to lower yourself," she hit back, no hint of malice in her voice.

He took a sip of his whiskey and regarded her. Merlin she looked good. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to drag her into the nearest bathroom and have his way with her.

"I don't know Granger. It could be like charity work. Giving to the less fortunate," he said, flashing her a sarcastic grin.

"Yes you're right. It would be awfully charitable for me to show you any sort of hospitality," she said sharply. Oh how he loved their witty banter. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't help but provoke her. Push her. Taunt her. Belittle her. It made him feel like he was still a school boy. He took comfort in the fact that he seemed to inspire the same response in her. It seemed like they both rather relished the game.

He clicked his tongue, unable to help but be curious about her.

"Why do you keep an apartment here?" he asked, genuinely interested.

She appeared to pick up on his sincerity and rewarded it with a serious answer.

"To get away from everything," she said flatly. He really had never noticed how lovely her almond shaped eyes were. He always thought blue eyes to be the most beautiful but he made an exception for her. Her brown eyes seemed to have depth in them that went on forever. Her eyes complimented her blood red lips, which were succulent and kissable. He dragged his eyes away from them and continued to question her.

"What is everything?" he asked, taking another step closer to her.

"The constant media attention since the war. My job. Even Harry and Ron can be a bit much sometimes," she confessed.

"Plus, I know you wouldn't understand but… being muggle born – this is my world as much as the wizarding world is yours… coming here is like going home and getting to be myself," she finished.

She seemed unsure of why she was being so truthful.

"So this is a vacation from your life?" he asked frankly.

"Sometimes I think Hogwarts, the war, my job at the Ministry… I feel like all of that is not really my life. That this world, the muggle word, is mine. Other times, I feel like I am a stranger here and it's not really my life at all. I think perhaps my truth is that somehow I live in the in-between," her honest response slipping out quite involuntarily.

He noticed her flush, widen her eyes and bite her lip, seemingly shocked at her own candor. She looked beautiful out there, shivering in the moonlight.

When he went outside he was expecting to be immediately put off by her terrible personality. How wrong he had been. He always thought that she would be boring, bossy, bookish, holier-than-thou and a range of other negative impressions he had got from their years at school. But they weren't at school anymore.

It was refreshing to hear her admit that she had doubts. That she was not the perfect Gryffindor Princess people thought he to be. That he had thought her to be 30 minutes prior.

He wondered if her brilliant mind was whirring at the same rate, thinking the same kinds of things. Wondering why he was taking an interest in her life. Wondering if he was playing a game with her, it certainly would be in line with the guy she had come to know him as. Was she curious about him in the way he was curious about her?

He couldn't help but run his eyes across her figure hungrily. Shamelessly.

There was no way she didn't see the way he looked at her. He was a Malfoy after all. Malfoy's always go after what they want – with no shame about it. He saw no need to look away. He didn't care if it made her uncomfortable. He wanted her to know what he wanted to do with her. The impact those damn jeans had on him.

Rather than recoiling or shivering under his gaze she met his eyes defiantly – inside, he felt himself burn like the sun.

They continued their staring contest, even as the heavens opened and the London rain began to fall. Neither willing to give up the challenge, they continued their relentless observation of each other. He noticed her shiver, her exposed skin now covered in droplets of freezing rain.

His inner gentleman won out and he removed his jacket and wrapped it around her. He couldn't well stare at her until she had hypothermia.

"I should go home soon," she said softly.

"Yeah, it's getting late," he concurred, devastated that she would soon be gone.

"You know you can come with me," she said carefully, not wanting to make a fool of herself. He was Malfoy after all, the Prince of Slytherin. He seemed genuine but she knew he could have an ulterior motive or an angle. That he could be waiting to humiliate her. Who knew with him?

Her offer hung in the chilled night air.

"Yes please," he said, masking the unadulterated delight he felt at her offer. His intense gaze settled on her blood red lips. Oh, how he longed to reach out and touch them. How good they would look stained with her own blood from the bite he was desperate to give them.

He stepped forward, their bodies almost flush against each other now.

He was well aware she tensed at his sudden entry into her personal space. He reached his hand around under the jacket and placed his hand gently on the small of her back, feeling the exposed flesh between the waist of her jeans and the thin top she wore. The curve made him groan internally. She was dangerous in that outfit.

He began to guide her back into the club and towards the exit, feeling a mass of nerves grow in his stomach as the realization dawned on him that he was soon going to have her alone.

A smirk graced his lips as he considered his luck, of all the grotty muggle clubs to lower himself to he came to Granger's local hideaway. The Gods really had smiled on him tonight. Finally he would get his release with a witch worthy of his attention.

From the corner of his eye Theo Nott noticed Draco Malfoy leaving with Hermione Granger, his hand placed possessively on the small of her back. Her body was clad in his expensive jacket.

Of course he had known she would be there. She was the perfect specimen for his friend. Boy needed a push in the right direction, he smiled to himself.

"You're a good mate Nott," yelled Zabini in his ear. "I would have taken her for myself," he said with a wicked glint in his eye.

Theo smirked at his successful, albeit manipulative matchmaking.