AN: Written for Strictly Dramione's Valentine's Day Smut Fest. A little late for FFN crossposting. Thanks to Strictly Dramione for another juicy fest! Prompt 19 - Get lost at football games (Thankfully, our admins/mods let me change it into Quidditch instead.)

All my love to RooOJoy and HeartOfAspen for their precious help with this fic, all errors left are my own.

Thanks to Thelastlynx for providing the sexy article that prompted the little plot in this fic.

Infinite Thanks to Ladykenz347 for the beautiful work of art!

JK Rowling owns the characters, no profit is made from this work.

Warnings: There's Dramione sex in this work…

I appreciate all of you that spend time reading my stuff. Please, let me know what you think.

A Good Kind Of Madness

"You need a date for Valentine's day." With a mischievous look in her eyes, Ginny pulled Hermione towards the couch and sat, folding her legs under her with a giggle that scrunched up her petite, freckled nose. "Is there a bloke you like?"

With that, Hermione was sure her friend instead meant, Tell me who you want to shag. For once, she was happy to discuss frivolous matters with a girlfriend. Hermione Jean Granger, smartest witch of her age and all that, had everything she wanted - a high paying job at the Ministry, a successful career in front of her, a huge house full of books and her loyal kitty, Crookshanks.

Alas, she was at a point in her life where she wanted a man. It was not the fear of ageing and remaining maiden all her life. No, she didn't care about that; she was perfectly content with herself. The issue was that she missed the sex that a man could bring into the mix to spice up her nights. Her busy lifestyle, along with her focus on her career advancement, always kept her from building constructive relationships with her sporadic dates, and none of the men she went out with had her head-over-heels. Now that her work-life dreams were fulfilled, she was ready to tend to her personal life. Incidentally, there was a certain someone that had been sparking her interest since he started working as an Auror alongside Harry.

"There's this guy at work...he is just so bloody annoying and full of himself that he drives me into madness," Hermione confessed with a blush, her gaze lowering to her lap.

Ginny hummed in confusion. "Is it the good kind of madness?"

Sighing, Hermione continued, "No. Back in Hogwarts, he used to make fun of my hair, hex me, drop my books, and he even tripped me on the swivelling staircase a few times! However, despite how frustrating he is, and even though he's everything I can't suffer in a bloke, we have a strange kind of chemistry."

Ginny was silent. She squeezed Hermione's hand to prompt her to further explain since Hermione was avoiding her gaze and hiding her guilty expression.

Fighting the blush that was creeping up her face, she took a deep breath and admitted, "Not long after he miraculously was hired by the Auror Department, he started kissing me when I've seen him out at bars. I always respond for a while but then I realize who I'm snogging and shove him away."

Hermione felt warm as she remembered the first time he had pushed her against the staircase railing at the Leaky Cauldron, trapping her in a hot, strong hold. They had crossed paths while she was coming from the loo, and she had playfully snatched his glass from his hands in a very alcohol-infused decision. She could still feel the shivers that his smouldering grey eyes sent down her spine as he grabbed her by her wrist, making her drop the glass, and pulled her to him, spinning around so that she was trapped between his hard body and the railing. He had tasted like whiskey and chocolate, although maybe that had been her drunken imagination. Then there had been that time in the alley behind the Three Broomsticks after Harry's birthday party, and that other time...Merlin, he was so unbearably, infuriatingly sexy!

She cleared her throat, putting aside the memory of his hands on her body, and still trying to hide the blush on her skin. "For some reason, I really want one of those random and weird snog sessions to someday turn into us having really dirty sex. I mean literally anywhere - in a bathroom or on a very uncomfortable broomstick, I don't care. I just want it so bloody bad."

Letting out a low whistle, Ginny chuckled. "Hermione, behind your aura of swottiness hides a horny, naughty Kneazle kitten!"

They laughed together until Ginny abruptly stopped. "It's odd. You treat each other like you are Hogwarts students, fuelling house rivalries."

"I know, and there's something just indescribably sexy about it. Don't you think?"

After a brief chirp, Ginny's mouth snapped shut. Eyes wide in bewilderment and realization, she shrieked, "Merlin and Morgana shagging under a fairy tree! You are wooing Draco bloody Malfoy!"

Hermione's red cheeks were all she needed for an answer. Hopping off the couch, Ginny stuttered some incoherent words, "Clandestine snogging...the ferret...quite dashing...Merlin's balls!"

Hermione quietly waited for her friend to calm down, but Ginny started frantically pacing the sitting room of her flat, tapping her chin with a pensive look. Suddenly, she let out an enthusiastic exclamation as she pulled her wand out of her jeans pocket and summoned a small wooden box from under the sofa. With an excited titter, she extracted a small stack of papers the size of Muggle Post-it notes. Muttering under her breath she cast an Engorgement Charm, and the documents grew and enlarged until they became a ceiling high pile of old Witch Weekly magazines. After Ginny drew a crescent moon slice with her wand, a single magazine flew out of the pile, leaving the precarious tower dangerously swaying.

In a cascade of burgundy hair, Ginny slumped down on the sofa and without thinking twice, opened the issue at a precise page. "Here. One hundred and twenty nine tips on how to find a husband. The most popular article in Witch Weekly history. Dated 1958. So, some of them might be a little sexist, hilarious, or archaic, but it's worth a shot. Against a Malfoy, we need heavy weaponry and old fashioned witchy tricks."

"Do you think my chances are so scant?" Hermione clipped, rather offended.

Ginny canted her head to the side, blinking, a sheepish grin on her face. "I mean, he is Malfoy. He has probably always wanted you, now that I think about it. All the banter and the glances your way in school are proof enough, but...he is a Malfoy. Going on a date with you would go against everything old Lucius taught him…and most of all, he's a coward. He needs a push."

"Fine. What do you suggest?" Hermione gave in, huffing.

After a brief perusal, Ginny slapped the page and solemnly announced, "Number nineteen! Get lost at football games."

Hermione's eyebrows quirked in a confused arch. "Muggle football? I really can't image Malfoy at a Manchester United or Chelsea match."

"Who? No, no. Back in the fifties, Witch Weekly dived into the Muggle courting techniques and these tips are the result of their study. Just swap football for Quidditch. On Friday the 12th of February, there's the annual Quidditch match between the English Ministry and the Bulgarian one. Pretend to get lost and casually walk into the changing room after the game."

Hermione shook her head, eyes wide and bewildered. "Everybody will see me!"

"Cast a Disillusionment Charm for Merlin's sake! This crush of yours is eating away at your brain. You need to get him out of your system! Anyway, Harry said that Malfoy is always the last one out of the shower after practice - I'm sure he needs to make sure his hair is perfect and petty stuff like that. So lock yourself in there with him, invite him on a date for Valentine's and shag him senseless!" After a naughty wink, she added, "Or shag him first and then take him out on a date."

Thanks to Harry's seeking skills and Draco's scoring ten goals as a Chaser, the English Ministry of Magic won the Quidditch match.

A series of clever spells and charms got Hermione past security without any issue. Hidden from sight, she was staring at the door that led to the winning team changing room. Hermione wasn't familiar with the number of players that composed the Ministry Quidditch team; she knew there were seven in the pitch, but was unsure about the reserves. After she counted at least thirteen plus the coach, she decided it was safe to enter the changing room. Still disguised under a Disillusionment Charm, she stepped into the steam-filled changing room. Two rows of wooden cabinets lined the side walls, tall enough to store a broom and all the Quidditch gear. In between, there was a long and broad bench, also made of dark wood.

Luckily, only one Quidditch bag lay abandoned on the bench, with expensive dragonhide shoes neatly stored beneath it. She could hear the water running behind the door opposite the one she had just snuck into. Hermione felt the heat rising on her skin at the thought of pearls of water sliding down a naked Malfoy. As the trickling sound stopped, she immediately second-guessed herself. What was she thinking? How was she to justify her stalking behaviour?

Once Draco finally emerged from the bathroom, he carried with him a soapy scent, while steam and a trail of water followed behind him. Actually, she wasn't really sure it was Draco, since her eyes never made it to his face. The man was barefoot, only a towel covering his groin, and Hermione's gaze lingered where a faint trail of blond hair disappeared into the cloth. Catching her breath - and she thought for sure that the raspy sound was going to blow her cover - she drank in the way his ashen skin adhered perfectly to the muscles beneath, especially to the carvings of his oblique abs and to his flat, defined stomach.

He wasn't as muscular as other men she had been with, but he was lean and cut and just delicious. When she finally laid her eyes on his juicy lips, straight long nose, and grey stormy eyes, she confirmed that the wizard in front of her was, indeed, Draco Malfoy. With a smaller towel, he was drying his hair as he walked, spiky platinum strands shaking all over the place. He tossed the towel in a dirty pile when he was done, leaving his hair all unkempt and wild. Hermione swallowed hard when she saw the muscles in his arms contracting and shifting with each movement. Good Godric, she was in trouble. Leaving a trail of wet footprints, he padded to his belongings and unpacked his shirt and suit.

Heart thundering in her chest and cheeks aflame, the witch couldn't find the nerve to reveal herself. The right words were evading her, and she just kept hesitating. Taking a deep breath, she stopped her train of thought, biting hard on her tongue. She was a Gryffindor, a war heroine, and moreover, she too smart to just go speechless in front an impossibly tantalizing piece of meat. She was Hermione Granger, and she was going to get what she wanted, with his permission. A quick counter spell and she appeared out of thin air. Hunched over his sports bag, Draco didn't notice her at first.

Leaning on the wall with her ankles crossed, she summoned every bit of self confidence she had and breathed out, "Hi, Malfoy…"

Taken by surprise, he turned his head and loudly gasped, jaw falling open when his eyes met hers. "Granger?" His voice was throaty and surprised, but she appreciated how quickly he was able to regain composure and unleash his snark when he next asked, "What brings a bookworm to a Quidditch changing room?"

She smiled when he pivoted all his body towards her, showing her the entirety of his physique again. A treacherous sigh escaped her lips. "I got lost after the match and thought I could come to congratulate you on your score."

His snark wavered when she removed her cloak with calculated movements, revealing a long emerald, halter dress with a dangerously high side-split. She uncrossed her legs so that her thigh would slide through the silky slit.

He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Couldn't you wait for me to get out?"

Smirking wickedly, she swayed her hips as she approached him, halting next to him and placing her cloak on the bench. She inhaled and recognized the smell of his soap, sandalwood delighting her senses. "No, I'm sick of playing games with you."

She levitated his Quidditch bag and clothes to the other side of the long bench and sat in front of him, making sure to brush her body on his with every little movement. Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, she arched back so that her deep cleavage would be showing and leaned back onto her hands on the broad bench.

She let her eyes wander over his skin, still nibbling her lip until she finally confessed, "I want you. Feel free to refute this, but it's pretty clear to me that you want me just as much." She briefly eyed the suspicious bulge under where his towel was knotted before locking eyes with him, determined embers peering into stormy grey. "We need to get this out of the way before we can move on with our lives. Afterwards, we can go our separate ways and forget that we even know each other."

At her last words, his eyebrow briefly furrowed, but a playful simper was pulling at his lips.

"Here and now?" He already knew the answer to that question so she didn't bother speaking and just leaned forward. The bench was at a perfect height for her to be directly in front of his now visibly hard cock. Draco brought a hand to her face, gently brushing her jaw; the Malfoy family ring on his thumb sent jolts of electricity through her body, making her melt all over. Snickering at her shuddering, he brought his hands to the towel on his hips, his abdominal muscles flexing enticingly. His voice husky and low, he added, "Oh well. You are correct. You've been on my mind a lot, and who am I to refuse the advances of a sweet little thing like you?"

In a flourish of fabric, the towel dropped to the floor, freeing his cock. It twitched before her, ready to be played with.

With a hum, Hermione placed her palms on his stomach, relishing in the feel of his athletic build. Following the perfect V of his muscles, she closed a fist around his hard length and squeezed lightly. Draco released a sharp breath as she wet her lips and leaned closer to the head of it. Opening her mouth, she hovered in front of it but did not take it in yet. Instead, she gave him an admonishing look and hissed, "First off, Malfoy, I'm not a thing, I'm not little, and I'm certainly not sweet."

With studied slowness - and she really had researched ways to pleasure a man, in actual books and with some experimenting - she moved her hand towards herself, slid her palm around his tip, and pushed back, up and down in a slow repetitive motion. Groaning, he broke eye contact to tilt his head back.

She stopped her hand. "Second, I like my man talking during sex, but only if he says dirty things. If you cannot handle it, shut up."

He scoffed and peered down his pointy nose at her, eyes twin pools of molten metal. His eyelids fluttered when she finally wrapped her lips around his cock, but he didn't avert his eyes, appearing mesmerized by her movements. She went down as far as she could so that his cock hit the back of her throat, swallowing around him, and back up to let her tongue play with the head. Looking into those hooded eyes, she felt a thrill in her core that made her clit pulse.

Draco didn't let her suck on him for a long time. Fisting her wild curls, he denied her access to her toy and canted her head upwards so that she could look at him.

"Lean back," he ordered, rough and hushed, saying nothing really dirty, just to prove that he was not going to be bossed around by her. Instead of making her cross, the knowledge only made her pussy clench and long for some friction.

Draco knelt before her, his knees comfortably resting on his abandoned towel, and smirked at her, slowly opening her dress where it split, and sliding the garment up. He clenched his fists around the fabric once it reached her stomach. She had purposely worn no knickers that day. His steely eyes devoured her while his hands let go of her dress and slid down her stomach, caressed her thighs, and stopped on her knees. Grinning at his reverential posture, she opened her legs for him to see her most hidden place. Draco inhaled sharply and licked his lips.

"Naughty witch," he hissed and without hesitation, reached for her pussy and spread her centre apart, revealing her inner, wet folds and her throbbing clit. He dipped a finger into her core and let out a satisfied hum. "You are so soaked just from sucking my cock."

His words made her pant in anticipation. She begged him with her eyes to touch her, and he obliged with a devilish grin. Rubbing small circles around her sensitive spot, he leaned between her thighs and inhaled her scent, rogue strands of platinum hair tickling her skin. Hermione moaned when he let his tongue greedily lap at her sex, thoroughly licking the length of her outer and inner lips, up and down, and finally focusing on her clit. The sight of him between her thighs was gorgeous: his hair was still damp and tousled, as he licked and sucked at her pussy while long, pale fingers gripped at her thighs. Her short, little breaths of pleasure turned into a throaty mewl when he entered her with two fingers, immediately finding her most tender spot and relentlessly caressing it. The git actually knew what he was doing, she thought as the coil in her core tightened.

He freed his mouth just for a moment to say, "Let me see how you touch your tits, Granger."

Hermione indulged him eagerly, exposing her breasts to him by unknotting the dress behind her neck - she wasn't wearing a bra either. The halter top gathered at her hips as she touched herself, alternating between soft rubbing to harsh nipple pinching. Draco's eyes on her were smouldering, azure sparks glinting in the cloudy grey. Between his voracious mouth and skilful fingers, combined with her expert hands on her nipples, she violently came apart, maddened with pleasure.

Lifting his head, he gave her a satisfied smirk, his swollen lips and chin completely wet with her juices. He rose on his feet and pulled her up with him, one hand taking possession of the nape of her neck and the other on her lower back. He bent his head, delicately brushing his lips on hers, but suddenly froze. For the first time since she had walked in, he hesitated. His eyes darted between her own like a silent plea for permission. Surprised by this sudden stall, Hermione almost gave in to her insecurity again, not sure what was lingering behind those crystalline irises, but then realized why he was doubtful. It would be the first time they kissed while sober, and without him having to slam her against a hard surface. Her heart fluttered against her breastbone as she lifted her chin up and playfully nudged her button nose against his pointy one, determined to show him that she wanted him - all of him.

Hermione could smell herself on him, the warmth of his breath ghosting over her lips. With a smile arching her rosy mouth, she took his lower lip between her teeth and lightly nibbled at it once, before letting herself savour him. He tasted like her, sweet and tangy, and it sent tingles down her neck. Parting his lips for her, he returned the kiss softly at first, but it soon turned into a heated, passionate snog, much like the ones they had shared before. He tightened his grip on her neck, the other hand sliding down to her buttock.

Moving his lips to her jaw and neck and leaving a wet trail of hot open-mouth kisses, he rocked his hips into hers, rubbing his erection on her still clothed stomach. Grunting in frustration, he slid what was left of her silky dress off her hips. The green gown pooled onto the floor in a silent whoosh. Interrupting their contact, he helped her step out of the dress, holding her hand for balance, but scrutinizing every inch of her naked body. Then he smiled mischievously and spun her around, his hands cupping her breasts and squeezing her nipples, making her gasp. His lips on her shoulder were dangerously close to pulling her into oblivion.

Trailing his fingers down her sides and behind her back, he bent her over the bench, and she propped herself up on her hands. With an appreciative thrum, he kneaded her rounded, large behind - the only part of her body that she was exceptionally proud of.

"Do you like it from behind, Granger?" he asked as he stroked her pussy and pinched her clit, making her squirm and moan.

Grinning, she looked over her shoulder and nodded. She gasped again when he slid the tip of his cock into her core - thank Merlin for her high stilettos so she could match his height. Her heart leapt strangely when she realized she was about to have Draco Malfoy exactly the way that she had been fantasizing.

He slowly entered her, stretching her deliciously on the way in. He mumbled something she could not quite hear, but it didn't matter. When he slid out and in again with deliberate movements, she couldn't find it in her to care about words, or anything else. She completely lost her mind when he changed the speed and started ramming into her, pushing and pumping until she had to lean on her forearms.

With his rhythmic movements, he was driving her mad, quickly bringing her to another orgasm, but she wanted to look at him in the eyes when she came. Collecting all her strength, she straightened herself on her wobbly legs, pushing him back and out of her. Hermione turned and pointed at the bench for him to sit. His eyebrow flickered at her given order as though he wanted her to know, once again, that he did not wish to become her obedient pet. He sat down nonetheless, and she smirked with satisfaction.

Holding onto his shoulders, she straddled him and immediately reached between her legs to grab his cock and drive it into her. Her back arched instinctively to the sensation of fullness. She left her hand there and rubbed her clit while she started bouncing on him. Draco gripped her hips to guide her - up and down, all the way on and off. He wasn't looking at her, too raptured by his cock disappearing into her pussy, again and again, his breath coming in shallow, sharp pants. She grabbed the soft fine hair on the back of his head and pulled his head to force his eyes to meet hers. He pinched her hips to protest but moved his blazing irises to her nonetheless. With every rebound, Hermione felt her heart swelling as though Draco were carving a way to her soul from the inside.

They were both panting and breathing out throaty little moans in rhythm with her movements. She felt her core tighten, and her pace became somewhat erratic until she was just rocking back and forth so that the head of his cock could hit her internal pleasure spot.

Overwhelmed by the sensation, she abandoned her clit and held onto Draco's shoulders with both her hands. He slid an arm behind her back to pull her closer, the other hand reaching up to fist her wild curls. He crushed his mouth on hers, rough and somewhat sloppy because of the awkward angle, but she didn't care. Her insides clenched and pulsed until she came undone, crying out his name over and over.

With a powerful thrust forward, Draco slid off the bench and lowered her with her back on the floor, his cock still inside her. He pushed into her just a few more times before his head collapsed next to hers and he came inside her, breathing heavily on her throat in a silent growl.

They stayed like that for a while, chest against chest, heaving heavily until Draco lifted his head and fixed his gaze on her. He was flush, his eyes were sparkling, and his hair was a hot mess. She couldn't contain a smile, which he returned with a grin. He was just bloody gorgeous; that was all her brain could come up with in that moment.

"We failed," he said suddenly, and she felt her brow furrow. "After this, there's no way I'm getting you out of my system." She let out a relieved chuckled at his admission.

He slid out of her, his seed dripping from her and onto the floor, or the towel - she wasn't really sure what she had landed on. Pushing up on his hands, Draco lifted himself upward and helped her get on her feet as well - she concluded that she had been lying on the fluffy towel. His eyes never left her face, and they were still smouldering - as hot as grey eyes could be. Hermione was utterly lost into the depth of those beautiful silvery irises and knew that she was fucked - both literally and figuratively speaking - because the intense, amazing sex that was supposed to help her satiate her desire for him, had left her craving more instead.

A little unsteady on her heeled shoes, she averted her eyes and bent to pick up her dress. She slipped into it quickly so that she could leave, even though she was tempted by the locker room showers. "See you Monday at work," she said and reached for her cloak at the end of the bench, but a hot hand closed on her wrist to stop her.

"See you on Valentine's day. Seven o'clock?" He tilted his head on the side, expectantly smirking at her.

She didn't hesitate to reply positively and kiss him goodbye as she quickly decided that Draco was the right kind of madness to give into. With a grin on her lips, Hermione left the locker room, satisfied with their failure. Ginny and Witch Weekly would be proud of her, though maybe more the first one than the prudish bint that had written the outdated article.