A/N: This is for my roommate's birthday today!

"So there's only one bathroom, but I promise, I'm rarely home," Jill said, opening the door for Hermione to see into the small tiled room with a toilet and shower. "It never feels crammed in the mornings."

Hermione grimaced at the lack of space. She'd been able to afford much more just a few short months ago, but the expenses for recovering her parents' memories had sliced her budget in half.

"That's not too bad," she lied. "It seems like you both keep it tidy, which I appreciate."

Jill smiled and led her towards the spare bedroom. Jill was a Muggle girl whose older brother had been at Hogwarts a few years ahead of Hermione. It was rather nice that Jill simply knew Hermione was a witch, not a war hero. And it was nice for Jill to have a flatmate who could make tea in two seconds.

"This is Darren's room." Jill pointed to a closed door at the end of the hall. "He's not home, but he's very clean and keeps to himself. He's like me," she said proudly. "He knows about magic, but isn't a witch."

"Wizard," Hermione corrected kindly.

"Right, right." Jill arrived at the spare bedroom. "It's small, but it's—"

"I'll take it."

She had been searching for a flat in this area for this price for a few months. So despite the dirty windows, Hermione could appreciate if for what it was.

It was only a year, right?

She moved in over the course of a weekend. Jill was right about rarely being home. It seemed she left almost immediately for a few months abroad. It was nice to use magic for the move without worrying about the flatmates, but Darren wasn't around at all that weekend, so it hardly mattered.

So, when Hermione left her bedroom on Monday morning in her pajamas and camisole to find Draco Malfoy choking on an apple at the sight of her, she knew the flat was too good to be true.

She should have had the place swept for cockroaches.

Apparently, Draco Malfoy had been living out his Wizengamot-ordered exile in Muggle London, working a few Muggle jobs and going by "Darren" to keep a low profile.

Hermione looked into other flats during her workday on Monday, the image of Malfoy's purple face as he screamed at her to get out of his kitchen, pieces of apple flying in every direction from his lips still fresh in her mind. But she'd signed paperwork with Jill. She'd paid first and last month's rent. She'd looked for another place that matched her needs.

She came home Monday evening to find Malfoy sitting at the dining table, glaring at her over a glass of white wine.

"So, when are you moving out?" he asked.

She scowled. "On 31 August, when my one-year lease is up. When are you moving out?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Granger." He gave her a smile that crept up his pointed features. "I am living in my court-ordered exile in my court-ordered flat. You're the one choosing to live here."

"I'm not leaving, Malfoy." She planted her hands on her hips and her feet on the floor.

He tilted his wine glass back, his long throat swallowing every last drop as he glared at her. Smacking his lips, he stood from the table and strutted down the hall with a "We'll see," tossed over his shoulder.

She huffed.

The next morning her shampoo had been mixed with bleach. She had to transfigure a hat to cover her Malfoy-blonde curls.

She really should have remembered that Draco Malfoy didn't do anything by halves.

By Wednesday, every single kitchen item she'd brought into the flat had disappeared. Every time she bought food, it was half-eaten and left open on the counter the next morning. She had to start cursing all of her personal effects to keep his hands off.

Her bedroom was safe.

Or at least she thought.

She came home the following Friday evening to find a rager in the flat. Music blaring, smoke and alcohol everywhere. At least fifty people crammed inside.

Jill was still out of town, so there was only one option here.

"MALFOY!" she bellowed, and watched as several people pointed her down the hall.

She beat on his bedroom door, and when it opened and two strangers stumbled out, laughing, she turned to Jill's room with a frown. Two more strangers.

Cold dread pressed over her, and she opened her bedroom door to find a pale (yet surprisingly fit) body, thrusting into a pair of legs on top of her grandmother's quilt.

"MALFOY!"

His rhythm stuttered — something very theatrical about it — and he looked up at the doorway and screamed, "Fuck Granger! I was close, and now you've completely killed my mood."

"Get out of my room!"

The pair of legs were actually attached to a beautiful drunk girl. She sat up and said sloppily, "Hi. Who are you?"

Hermione fumed. "I am Hermione Jean Granger, and this is my bedroom!"

"Oh," the drunk girl said. "Are you joining us then?"

Hermione's jaw dropped and Malfoy — who has resumed his thrusting, despite the complete boner-murder he had just suffered — paused and looked down at the girl in horror.

"Are you joking? Her?" Malfoy said. "Look at her."

Hermione bristled, still standing in her own doorway like a visitor.

"I know," the drunk girl whispered. "She's beauuutiful."

She blinked. Malfoy gaped. And then he was pulling back from her and standing, and Hermione had to avert her eyes from his… very naked body.

"You're far too drunk. Get out," he said to the girl, like she had sorely disappointed him and let down an entire Quidditch team.

"Nooo," she whined. "Baby, I was so close. You were just about to make me come."

"Doubtful," Hermione grumbled.

Malfoy glared at her. "I'll have you know that I am an exceptional lover, Granger. I actually pity you that you will never have the opportunity—"

"I'm sure I'll mourn the loss forever—"

"—while you and the Weasel fumble around each other—"

"—wouldn't trade it for all syphilis in the world."

"Are you sure you don't want her to join us?" the drunk girl giggled. "You're hard as a rock, Darren."

Hermione couldn't stop her eyes from flicking down to Draco Malfoy's cock, which was indeed… proudly unwavering. She brought a hand to her eyes, like shielding them from a blinding light.

"Or maybe I should go and leave you to it?" the girl whispered.

"No! No, it's time for both of you to go!" Hermione yelped. "Get out!"

Malfoy swaggered past her, brushing up against her with a cocky "pardon, love," and the drunk girl stumbled out after him with similar endearment.

She had to burn her grandmother's quilt. And it wasn't until the next day that she found her dildo and vibrator had been labeled in Sharpie "Draco Malfoy's cock" and "Draco Malfoy's tongue," respectively.

Several weeks later, Harry surprised her one morning by showing up with muffins and tea. She opened the door to find him grinning at her.

"Harry! What are you doing here?"

"I've been asking you where you moved to," he said with a grin. "I told you I wanted to visit."

He held up the bag of muffins and tea in offering.

Hermione let him in, running through excuses at the size of the place, the neighborhood, the smells. She hadn't told Harry she was low on funds due to her parents' bills. He would have handed over the gold, and she didn't want that. She had a fine job. She could afford the bills as long as she budgeted.

"Oh, it's very chic," Harry said, taking a look around while Hermione bit her nails. "And it's just you and Jill?"

Hermione blinked at him. She'd said that, hadn't she? She'd not wanted to cause trouble by mentioning to Harry and Ron that Draco Malfoy was her new flatmate, so she'd not even bothered.

"Yep," she chirped, much too high-pitched for the truth. "Er, but wouldn't you like to go out for breakfast? My treat?"

Harry turned to frown at her, ready to argue when a male voice stopped him.

"Do we have company, love?"

The voice shivered her bones and froze her pulse. She watched in horror as Harry's eyes widened and his head turned slowly towards the source of the aristocratic drawl.

Draco Malfoy was strutting sleepily down the hallway in just his trunks and socks, rubbing his eyes, and patting down his perfect example of sex-hair.

"Potter!" He beamed, stretching out his hand. "Good to see you." Harry woodenly accepted the handshake, jaw hanging loose. "It's been years, hasn't it?"

A squeaking noise sounded from Hermione's throat as she tried to think of the best way to deal with the situation. But then Malfoy turned to her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling their fronts together so intimately that she could just make out the outline of his morning erection against her stomach. He pressed his lips against her temple, and pulled back to look down at her.

"Breakfast? I was going to make eggs," Malfoy whispered. "Potter, are you staying? I'll make some tea?" He turned an easy grin on Harry.

Hermione let her jaw open and close. She was in her pajamas — a thin slip she had not thought much of while greeting her oldest friend for a surprise visit, but now standing with a naked chest pressed against her own tight nipples while trying to figure out a way to tell Harry she wasn't not intimately acquainted with Draco Malfoy (and never would be) —

"I assume this is quite a shock for you, Potter," Malfoy hummed, turning back to Harry and looping his arm around her waist, his warm fingers settling over her hipbone. "I don't believe she'd gotten up the courage to let you and the Weas— er, Weasley know yet, but…" He took a deep breath and ran his hand up and down her side in a supportive gesture. "This has been going on for some time."

Harry's eyes darted between them, quick and thinking. Hermione opened her mouth, ready to end the ruse and extract herself from Malfoy's hold when Harry spoke.

"I, um. I mean, I'm surprised, but… I suppose it's not too much of a shock."

Hermione suffered a small aneurysm. Malfoy said, "Wut?"

"Yeah, I guess… I guess I see it."

Malfoy's grip on her hip became painful. "I'm sure you're just hiding your disgust and betrayal, yes?"

"No, not at all," Harry said. "I, um… 'I ship it!' as Ginny would say." Harry gave Hermione's immobile shoulder a little bump with his fist. "I'll leave you two to your morning. It, uh… seems like it's just beginning!" Harry finished, with a purposeful look to Malfoy's crotch.

Hermione could do nothing more than bid him goodbye as he saw himself out. Malfoy released her and stepped away.

"Well. That was wholly unsatisfying."

She snorted. "Quoting your ex-girlfriends again?"

He glared at her as she disappeared into the kitchen. She shook her body like she was trying to get rid of a bug, and began making tea.

She called out in a sweet voice, "Were you serious about making eggs, love?"

She smiled at the sound of his bedroom door slamming.

He started bringing home trollops to shag on weeknights. Loudly.

He'd find a girl at the pub he worked at, bring her home, and proceed to fuck her into the wall his bedroom shared with Hermione's. After the third consecutive evening of this, Hermione decided that he couldn't be paying each one of them to scream and moan like that, so he must be an accomplished lover.

Which was aggravating.

On Thursday, Hermione wrapped a robe around herself, rolled up a blanket in her arms, and cradled it carefully before knocking softly. She opened Malfoy's door to find them on the bed, the screaming girl riding his face, one leg on each side of his shoulders, as her hands slapped against the bedroom wall.

"Darren, dear," Hermione said softly. "If you could keep it down?" The blonde girl stopped fucking herself on Malfoy's tongue, turning to look at her in shock. Malfoy twisted to see her in the doorway. Hermione said, "I'd just gotten him down for the evening." She smiled and rocked the bundle of blankets in her arms.

Malfoy's brows pulled together, and the blonde girl stared at her in horror. "There's a baby here?"

Hermione nodded and whispered, "Yes, this is Darren Jr.!"

The blonde dismounted, covering her naked chest. "I'm… wait, what?" She turned to look at Malfoy as he glared at Hermione and her bundle of joy. "You're a… You have a child?"

"No—"

"Yes!"

"This woman… is insane." He pointed to her and sat up.

"Oh, Darren. That's no way to speak to the mother of your child," Hermione said.

The blonde girl starting collecting her clothes.

"Fuck, Granger! I would rather cut my balls off than create a spawn with you."

Hermione leaned into the blonde girl conspiratorially. "There's a bit of racism in here too, you know." The blonde widened her eyes and slid past her in the doorway.

"Blood has nothing to do with it!" He stood from the bed, ignoring the hasty exit of the girl who'd just been fucking herself on his face. "I can just imagine it. 'Oh, Draco, really the clitoris must be stimulated simultaneously,'" he said with a rather inspired impression of her voice. "'No, no, Draco. The gods meant for the man to be on top. I simply will not turn over.'"

Hermione sneered at him, ignoring the massive erection jutting out towards her. "As if I'd ever call you 'Draco'—"

"I'd have you screaming it—"

"And I'll have you know that I can be quite adventurous in the bedroom!" She stomped her foot. "I quite enjoy being on top!"

He clapped his hands together, like he'd quite proven his point. "I knew you'd say that. I fucking knew it, you prissy, controlling, little—"

"Controlling!"

Neither of them paid any attention to the sound of someone letting themselves out the front door.

"I bet you wouldn't know good sex if it slapped you in the face with its massive c—"

"Oh, I've seen bigger, Malfoy."

He was leaning into the doorframe now. His arms on each side, his naked body almost flush against hers. "This is pointless anyway." He shrugged, a smirk on his face. "I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last woman on earth, Granger."

She lifted a brow at him. "Oh that's a shame to hear, Malfoy. But of the two of us, I'm not the one with a raging erection and no one around to suck me off." She smiled sweetly at him, and didn't miss the way his throat contracted and his eyes dropped to her mouth. "Goodnight, love."

She sashayed back to her bedroom and slammed the door.

And for the first time since it had been so aptly named, she used "Draco Malfoy's Tongue" on herself until she came. Twice.

A week later, she stepped into the shower one morning before work, letting the steam clear her mind.

She was tight on cash again, and Harry, Ron, and Ginny wanted her to join them for a holiday to the beach next month. She'd had to turn them down, claiming that she had to work.

She'd been able to catch Harry and clear things up before he had spread the news to Ron and Ginny that she was in a relationship with Draco Malfoy. When she'd told him the truth of it, he frowned at her and said, "Hm. Are you sure you're not?" Hermione had blinked at him, and laughed until there were tears in her eyes.

A heavy fist pounded at the bathroom door. Hermione jumped, almost dropping the shampoo.

"Granger, I have to piss!"

She huffed. "Malfoy, I just got in. Give me five minutes."

"Are you joking? You take hours in there."

Her jaw dropped and she scowled at the shower curtain. "I do not! You're the one who—"

The door banged open, and Hermione jumped. She covered herself with the shower curtain and peeked out to see Malfoy strutting in and lifting the toilet seat.

"MALFOY! No! You can't just barge in here simply—"

The sound of him urinating paused her. She closed the shower curtain, fuming. Snatching her shampoo off the shelf, she hurried to finish with her routines. She'd just worked a lather into her hair when she heard the rustle of the shower curtain.

Her fingers froze in her hair. She stood very still, facing away from the spray. "Malfoy, so help me God, if you don't leave this bathroom—"

"Merlin, Granger"— the voice from directly behind her, the sound of the water hitting a second body— "Your arse… I could bounce a sickle off that, I could."

She ignored the flush running up her neck and hissed, "What the fuck do you think you're doing."

"Thought we could save a bit of water, roomie." She could hear the smile in his voice as the spray shifted against his body. "Don't mind me. Pretend I'm not here."

Hermione pressed her lips together. She could get out. She could grab for her towel and run to her room. She didn't really think he'd keep her in the shower against her will, but he was certainly pressing her buttons.

"Pardon, Granger. Could you grab the shampoo for me?"

She looked down at where his shampoo bottle sat innocently on the ledge in front of her — the perfect height for her to bend to his viewing pleasure.

"You can wait until I'm out," she said. "I will not be bending for the shampoo—"

His hand reached around her, his shoulder pressing into hers, and he grabbed the bottle with a "Don't mind me, love" whispered into her neck. Her skin broke out in gooseflesh despite the warm water.

The squirt of the shampoo, the snap of the lid, and then he was behind her again, placing the bottle back with a press of his chest to her shoulders.

He was playing with her. But she could give it right back.

She finished lathering her hair, making sure to stretch her arms and curve her spine. And without overthinking, she turned, facing him in the shower, intent to rinse out her hair as if he wasn't even there.

But he was there. Her eyes drifted up his chest — a chest she'd seen far too many times now — to his face. His eyes were glazed and concentrated on her tits.

"Can I get under the spray, Malfoy?"

He blinked several times, clearing his vision, and she felt a jolt of satisfaction thrum through her that the sight of her bare tits had sent Draco Malfoy reeling.

He stepped back to create room for her, and she rinsed her hair out under the spray, closing her eyes and making sure to put on quite a show. When she opened her eyes again, fluttering her lashes against the water, Malfoy still had shampoo in his hair, and with a flick of her eyes downwards, he was fully erect.

"You know, Malfoy," she said. "I feel like I've seen you naked far too many times in the short month we've been roommates."

He swallowed, looking back up at her face. His lips broke out in the familiar smirk as he recovered. "What can I say. I'm terribly comfortable in my own flat. I invite you to be just as comfortable at any time."

"Oh, certainly, Malfoy. If that's what you truly want," she said, a plan forming in her mind.

She smiled demurely up at him and reached for the loofa.

"It is."

"Hm." She squirted a generous portion of gel against the sponge, and his eyes watched as she worked a thick lather. She was just about to declare herself victor over this strange game of chicken they were playing when his eyes glinted at her.

"I'll just continue on with my shower routine, Granger. Hope you don't mind terribly."

"Not at all," she said, fluttering her lashes.

His hand ran down his chest, and before she realized his intentions, he'd gripped his cock, beginning slow and firm strokes. Flipping her gaze back up to him, she watched him grin at her, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

Until she squeezed the loofa over her shoulder — the suds dripping down her chest, rounding the curve of her breasts and trailing lower and lower.

His lip popped from between his teeth, jaw opening as the loofa squeezed again, and a new cascade of soap drenched her chest. Out of the corner of her eye, his hand gripped the base of his cock in a tight circle.

"Alright there, Malfoy?"

His eyes were still on her tight stomach as the suds trickled down between her legs when he rasped, "Never better."

She grinned and turned, squeezing the suds to drip down her back and over the curve of her ass. A groan from behind her, drawing gooseflesh over her skin and sending a rolling pleasure through her cunt.

A wicked idea crossed her mind, and she shifted under the spray to rinse the bubbles off of her, conscious of the wet slaps of skin behind her back.

"So this is your shower routine, eh?"

"Daily," he growled.

She turned back to him, running her fingers through her wet hair to get all of the shampoo out, lifting her tits closer to his magnetic gaze. "How do you usually keep your imagination stimulated? When I'm not here?"

He had one hand leaning on the tiles, the other tugging quickly at himself, his knuckles almost brushing her stomach on each upstroke.

"I have thousands of ideas, Granger." His voice crashed over her, spinning sweetly into her ears, and tightening her stomach.

She met his eyes, surprisingly already on her face, and said, "Let me know if you could use a few more."

Just as he pressed his eyes closed, a moan popping from his lips, she stepped out of the spray, and with a flick of her fingers, the temperature in the shower tumbled to glacier cold just as she stepped out.

She ran back to her room naked and wet, listening to his curses and screaming as she barricaded herself inside, laughing until she gave in and slipped her fingers down to her clit.

Her hair products disappeared the next day, and all of her food had been eaten or left out to spoil.

The next afternoon, just before he left to work his job at the pub, she reached into the back of her drawers and dug until she found the pair of knickers and matching bra that she could never find the energy to piece together for anyone before (not that she thought on that for too long). She slipped them on and strutted out into the kitchen, reaching up on her toes for a mug just as Malfoy left his room.

She heard footsteps stop, and the silence behind her was devastating as she tipped the kettle toward her mug. "Have a splendid time at work, love," she hummed.

"I know what you're doing, Granger."

She turned over her shoulder and found Malfoy leaning against the frame, unashamedly admiring her backside.

"Whatever do you mean?"

His eyes flipped up and he smirked. "You're in love with me."

She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're practically barmy with it."

"Hardly—"

"I mean, I do understand, Granger—"

"You're completely—"

"But it's never going to happen, love."

"Fuck you."

He hissed through his teeth and said, "You won't be though."

She shoved past him, stomping back to her room and ripping the lace from her skin, tossing it into the wastebasket.

Brian was a sweetheart who she worked with at the Ministry. He had dark hair and intense eyes and was always first to get the door for her.

Brian was an intellectual, with a smooth voice and trivial facts that slipped out when he was excited.

Brian was handsome and clean and safe.

Brian… was boring as fuck.

She'd thought perhaps he would become more interesting when naked — that's what she told herself — and brought him home, thinking nothing of the way she insisted on riding him in the armchair in the living room instead of showing him to her bedroom.

And she definitely didn't think about how her eyes kept flicking to the hallway as her moans grew higher, almost completely uninspired by Brian himself.

So when a pale figure did appear in the hallway, hair rumpled by sleep and trunks hanging low off his hips, she lifted a brow at him while she bounced on Brian's cock. The armchair faced away from the hallway, so poor Brian would never be the wiser that they had a visitor, but it afforded Malfoy the perfect view of her bare shoulders and bouncing tits. What a coincidence.

She waited for him to interrupt, to say something smarmy, and banish Brian from the flat with his trousers around his knees.

Instead, he leaned back against the wall, and smirked, gesturing for her to continue.

So she did — her hands on Brian's shoulders, her cunt slipping over Brian's cock, and her eyes locked with Malfoy as his hand glided down and squeezed himself in his trunks.

"Hermione," came a voice from below, and she had to remind herself who she was fucking. Brian's hands slid up her waist, rounding the bottoms of her breasts, and fingers extended to rub softly as her nipples.

Her eyes slid closed, imagining millions of things, and when she opened them, Malfoy had his cock out, stroking slowly.

Her walls fluttered with something building. Brian groaned, jerking his hips and grabbed her waist.

She looked down in shock, as Brian wrenched his way through his orgasm, before her.

He smiled up at her, brushing her hair back and said, "Did you come?"

She blinked down at him and lied.

Brian began peppering kisses over her breasts in his afterglow — his solitary afterglow. She dared to look up, and found Malfoy still leaning up against the wall, smiling at her, touching himself lazily — still rock hard.

He looked down at himself, then up to her with a look meant to entice, and then disappeared into his bedroom. The implication was clear: If you need me, you know where to find me.

Hermione quickly disposed of Brian, put her clothes on, and left to stay on Ginny's couch before she did something horrendous.

Three weeks went by without incident. Hermione was on pins and needles waiting for the other shoe to drop.

One evening while she was reading in her room, she heard a yelp from the kitchen, followed shortly by the beeping of the Muggle smoke detector. She jumped up, grabbed her wand, and ran for the kitchen.

Malfoy was cursing and throwing things. Flames licked up the sides of the cabinets.

"Bloody bird!" he hissed, tossing a bowl at the beeping smoke detector.

"Malfoy! Stop!" She put out the flames and blasted the smoke detector open, batteries dropping to the kitchen floor. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he hissed. He turned from her to grab his food out of the microwave, spoon still in the bowl.

"Malfoy! You can't put metal in the microwave!"

"Well, I know that now, don't I?!" he bellowed at her. He used his left arm, his right curled defensively at his side.

"Are you burned?"

"No."

"Malfoy, let me see."

"No!"

"Stop being such a child and just—"

"What the fuck are you doing here, Granger?" he snapped, turning hot eyes on her. "Why in fuck's sake are you living in Muggle London in this shithole?"

"That's—that's none of your business—"

"You can go anywhere." He gestured widely, and Hermione caught sight of the burn on his arm, bubbling and red. "You have no limitations, so why are you here."

"Malfoy, I need to look at your arm—"

"Just tell me—!"

"I can't afford it!"

The silence rang through the kitchen, almost like she could still hear the alarm of the smoke detector.

"Bollocks," he hissed. "I know what you make at the Ministry."

"I have medical expenses. For my parents. They need specialists because… because of their memories…"

She bit her lip, hating herself for telling him all this. He had no right to this personal information. When she met his eyes again, he was staring at her like she'd grown a spare arm out of the center of her chest.

"You're truly here to save money?"

"Yes," she said, staring at the tiles. "It's just for a year. Their recovery will be over in about eight months, and then I'll look for a different place." She felt the vulnerability bubble inside of her like a potion that wanted out. "Just please, Draco. Let's get through the rest of my lease in peace. Then you'll never have to see me again."

She rubbed her hand over her eyes, trying to wash away the past two minutes of conversation. When he didn't respond, she muttered into her hand, "If you don't let me look at your burn, you'll have to go to the Muggle doctor. And try to explain why you never learned that you're not to put a spoon in the microwave."

Peeking at him between her fingers, she watched him sigh, and extend his arm to her, wincing. She summoned her magical first aid kit from her room, and said, "What did you do?"

"I assume Muggles aren't supposed to put out fire with tea either?"

She gaped up at him. "Not electrical fires!"

"WELL, NOW I KNOW!" He huffed and then said haughtily, "Are you going to fix me or not?"

She cast a numbing charm over the skin and teased, "That's quite the task, Malfoy."

She set to work, wrapping the wound in dittany and cooling gel. The mind that had memorized all these techniques the summer before they went Horcrux hunting spun into high gear, blocking out most everything else while she fixed the pale skin. It wasn't until she was almost done that she realized she had her fingers laced through his in order to pull his wrist back and give her access to the wound.

"You called me, Draco."

She blinked, suddenly very aware of the thin nightdress she'd worn to bed, and the cotton t-shirt he was in.

"I did not."

"You did. You said it earlier."

"You must have misheard me."

"It was when you were begging for us to get along—"

"I did not beg for anything—"

"So, should I be calling you 'Hermione?' If we're such good friends?"

Her skin tingled, and her breasts pulled tight in her thin nightgown. "Call me whatever you want. I did not beg to be your friend. I simply wanted to be able to take a shower in peace, without fear of mud in my conditioner."

"Mud in the conditioner? That's inspired," he whispered, his breath ghosting across her neck. "You've had otherwise… peaceful showers?"

She felt her neck heat, her skin flushing. "Don't play with me, Malfoy." She finished the wrap on his burn, tucking away the loose gauze, and packing up her supplies. A finger on her shoulder, tugging gently at the strap of her nightdress. She swallowed and ignored it, re-rolling her gauze, stoppering her dittany. The strap slid off her shoulder.

"Hermione?"

Her voice quivered when she responded, "Yes?"

"You look a bit flushed." His voice sent tingles down her spine, coalescing low in her belly. He tapped her medical kit and said, "Do you need me to check you out, too?"

She groaned, breaking like a flimsy excuse, and spun, meeting him halfway when their mouths crashed together. He was on her faster than she could think, his hands on her hips, his tongue in her mouth, his body pushing her back against the kitchen counter. She caught her breath when she could, feeling weightless as her hands slid up over his shoulders.

He pressed against her, and she felt him hard against her stomach as he growled into her mouth. His hands slid around to her backside, scrunching up the nightdress and pulling the fabric up to her waist. She yelped when suddenly it was tugged up and off of her, leaving her in just a pair of knickers — and not her sexy pair.

"Fuck," he breathed, his eyes roving over her.

"You've seen me naked before, Malfoy." She tugged at his shirt, helping him push it over his head when he seemed to have forgotten how.

"Yes, and that's what I meant to say the first time," he said.

She shook her head at him, grinning, about to argue when he brought his hands to her breasts, cupping them and feeling them rest in his palms. All words left her. When his thumbs started to rub at her, she made noises that weren't words at all.

Just when she was about to beg him for something else, he dropped to his knees, tugging at her knickers until they rolled down her hips slowly. He pressed sloppy kisses against her stomach, lower and lower until suddenly her leg was over his shoulder and his mouth was on her. Her fingers dove into his hair — this fucking hair — and tugged at the locks when he started licking through her, letting his nose press into her clit.

She moaned as he hummed into her cunt, his lips locking on her clit and kissing lightly over and over until the kisses turned into sucking. She trembled on her one leg, holding onto the counter behind her. A finger teased her entrance, and her thighs tightened as he lapped at her. He pushed inside so, so slowly, and her fingers tugged his face into her as she growled.

Abruptly, he was gone. His finger pulled from inside her, and his mouth left her center. He was standing, and she tried to push him back down to his knees.

"What the fuck!"

He laughed, and she thought for a moment that she'd been had before Malfoy grabbed her hips and turned her around to face the counter. "Want you to come on my cock."

She didn't find this charming at all. Not one bit. "I can come multiple times, Malfoy. Once on your tongue, once on your cock—"

"You can?" he teased, as if he'd never known this before. "Tell me more, Granger."

She scowled at the cabinets, listening to him drop his trunks. He arranged himself, and then was sliding inside of her, and all irritation melted at the smooth stretch she had been searching for. She tried not to moan. She really did. But then he moaned, and she was done for.

He wrapped one hand around her waist, the other on her hip, and began a torturous rhythm that had her biting her lip and grinding her hips back on him.

"Knew you wouldn't be patient," he hummed. And she thought he was teasing her again, but then he was still talking. "Knew you'd want it your way. I knew you'd be wet like this, gushing over me."

Oh… dirty talk.

Yes, well. She'd heard of this.

She'd not really… She wasn't versed in…

"Okay," she said, uselessly.

He chuckled against her temple, and the arm around her waist, slithered up until he had her breast between his fingers again. "Do you like it like this, Granger? With my cock buried deep, and my hands on your tits?"

Knowing in her heart that she was supposed to say something inane like "oh fuck yes," Hermione frowned and said, "Well, I'd like it more if you'd go faster."

So he did.

She gasped when both hands gripped her breasts and he let his hips pound into her. She felt the bruises forming on her hipbones from the countertop, but the way his fingers strummed her nipples more than made up for it.

A hand disappeared, only to tug at her hair, pulling her neck open to him. His lips her wild on her neck, and his pace rocked them both. His other hand whispered down her stomach, and then he was circling her clit, teasing her, making her moan. She wriggled her hips, trying to get him to just touch her, but he seemed to want to make this last.

So she played her ace.

"Draco," she moaned.

His teeth ran across her neck, and his fingers slipped to rub her clit. She clenched down on him, her climax racing through her as he fucked her endlessly.

When she opened her eyes, she'd been rearranged. Her chest had been lowered to the counter, her feet widened, and her hips were being tugged backwards against his. He was muttering filthy things about her cunt and her tits and her hair, and his cock was hitting her front walls—

She slapped a hand over her mouth as she began to scream, a second wave starting over her, shaking her and trembling her thighs.

He cursed, holding still as she squeezed and squeezed, the ripples going on forever. His lips on her shoulder as he gave a stiff thrust, and the grunt from his throat told her he'd finished, emptying inside of her and holding her close as they both panted.

He huffed against her skin, and slowly pulled out. She was pushing her sweaty hair out of her face when she turned to see him collecting his clothes and disappearing down the hall, leaving her alone in the kitchen with their mess.

She didn't see him for several days.

There was no tampering with her shower products and there were no girls coming over.

She kept to herself, feeling an emptiness she'd never experienced with any other one night stands. Because that's what it had been. He'd wanted to fuck her, and get her out of his system, supposedly.

She picked up the post one afternoon, and found the bill from the specialist for her parents. She sighed, and opened it in the kitchen, preparing herself for the strain on her bank account.

It was a notice of paid services.

She frowned, turning the paper over, looking for the bill. She Floo'd over to the Healer's office and the receptionist told her that her parents' bills had been covered.

An anger simmered in her chest as she marched back through her hallway, knowing that there was only one person who knew about her parents' bills.

She blasted open his door, finding him half-dressed, getting ready for work.

"Fuck, Granger!" He jumped. "What?"

"What is this?" she fumed.

"A piece of paper—"

"Why are my parents' bills paid?"

He turned away from the doorway and continued buttoning his trousers, ignoring the question.

"Malfoy!"

"They're paid! It's done! Merlin, woman…"

"How! You've been cut off—"

"I haven't been cut off." He reached for his shirt he wore to the pub he worked at. "I've been court-ordered to live here and work at the pub. It doesn't mean I don't have money."

She stared at him, trying to work it out.

"I… I… Then why?"

He tugged the shirt over his shoulders and said, "Now you can live wherever you want. You can move out. Don't make a fuss."

He grabbed for his keys and billfold.

She blinked at him, blocking his doorway. "Why would…" She swallowed. "You want me out this badly?"

He looked at her and lifted a brow. "You wanted out."

"I… I wanted a peaceful apartment—"

"Right, and I wanted to fuck you," he said, as if explaining something very simple. "You gave that to me, so I'm giving you the opportunity to go find a peaceful apartment." He shrugged, looking off over her shoulder, refusing to meet her eyes.

She flinched. Transactional. That's all this was. Tit for tat. Like he'd paid her for the opportunity.

"We couldn't just live peacefully here?" she asked softly. "We couldn't just get along?"

Swallowing, he said, "No. We couldn't. I have to get to work—"

"Why? Why not?"

"Granger—"

"Draco—"

"Don't," he hissed at her, his eyes turning hot and landing on her for the first time in what felt like ages. "We can't be friends, Granger. We can't call each other by our first names and sit on the couch and drink cocoa." He stepped into her, prowling. "I can't give you a 'peaceful apartment' when I still feel like this. I'll still be crawling into the shower with you and staring at your ass and bringing girls home to fuck so I can imagine your cunt—"

She gasped, feeling her body gravitate to him, leaning up on her toes and dragging his lips to hers. She'd barely tasted him before he pulled away, holding her at arm's length.

"Don't torture me, Granger."

"I don't want cocoa on the couch," she panted. "I want to fuck you on the couch." She ran her hands down his chest gripping his work shirt and pulling him closer. "You can join me in the shower whenever you want, just leave my shampoo alone."

He stared at her, trying to follow, but his eyes kept dipping to her lips. "I have work now. I need to attend or else the Wizengamot—"

"You know how following the rules gets me off." She kissed him again, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She whispered into his neck, "I have an in with the Ministry."

He ground his hips into her, lifting her up by her backside and walking them to his bed. She sat in his lap while they tugged at each other's clothes, and when he maneuvered them horizontal, hovering over her, she rolled until she was on top.

"I told you I like being on top."

"You're so predictable, Granger."

"I'm predictable?" she said, tearing his trousers down his legs. "You just tried to pay me as a thank you for sex."

"What? You completely misinterpreted—"

She pulled his cock out of his trunks, and bent to lick a long stripe from base to tip. His words died in his throat.

"Call me predictable again, Malfoy," she dared him.

He couldn't. He couldn't speak much of anything for the next five minutes as her tongue and lips worked over him, sucking and licking and filling her mouth with him. She finally figured out how to shut Draco Malfoy up. When she pulled off of him with a pop, tossing her hair back and crawling up his chest, he seemed to come back to himself, reaching for her denims as she kissed him.

They got off her jeans, and he fought her a few more times on who was going to be on top before she sunk down onto him, taking him inch by inch into her wet heat. His hands snapped to her hips, and his face fell slack and hazy when she began to rock on him.

"Fuck yes, Granger."

She placed her hands on his chest and leaned forward on him, circling her hips and slipping over him. The drag of him throughout her sent shivers across her skin, and the look in his eyes whenever he watched her face had her walls fluttering early.

Leaning back and riding him slowly, she let him thumb at her clit and speak filthy things into the space between them about her wet cunt and pink tits. Things he wanted to do to her, things he wanted to remember.

She hovered over him, pressing their chests together, and his hands started guiding her hips as they kissed, pressing firmly on her backside, snapping his hips up against hers. She gasped into his mouth, unable to match his pace when she started to crumble, her walls clenching and holding onto his cock as he fucked her through her climax.

She panted into his ear as he flipped them, rutting quickly against her, his fingers rubbing harshly against her clit. She begged and whimpered all the things she promised she'd never do in bed, and he fucked her into the mattress, grunting and twisting her knee up to her chest, driving himself deeper until she knew he'd carved a space for himself.

Her second orgasm shook her, screaming out of her with curses and his name, and he just pulled up to his knees, and watched her tremble as he jerked against her. A gasping as he tugged at her hair, tilting her face back to him, and then he was slamming his hips to her, in uneven rhythms, moaning out her name, "Hermione."

He collapsed on her, his body covering her, his forehead pressed to hers. She ran her fingers down his back, and he kissed her slowly.

A noise from the living room.

They stared at each other quizzically.

"Who—?"

"I'm home!" Jill called out. "Anybody here?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh," she said to him.

He glared at the door to his room, sending his irritation Jill's way. And then, "We need to get our own place."