Hello

This isn't exactly my usual thing but this extraordinary fluffy little plunny wouldn't let me rest until I wrote it out. Now I pass it onto you, try not to drown in the fluffy goodness. Or the smut. There will be smut. And fluff.

If that's what you're here for then I do hope you'll enjoy (and don't forget to review)!

Lexi.

Hermione didn't know why she had agreed to come.

It was a stupid idea brought on by vapid thoughts and insipid jealously. She'd thought she could make Ron jealous.

She'd gotten Padma to dress her and Ginny, happy to exact a small amount of revenge on her brother for "divorcing the best sister-in-law she had ever and would ever have", had agreed to do her hair. She looked good.

No, scrap that. Hermione Granger had looked in the mirror for the first time knowing she looked and felt drop-dead gorgeous.

Padma had gotten her a deep green gown that clung to her curves, with a deep cut back that slimmed her waist and accentuated her small round buttocks. She wasn't wearing panties. Hermione had never not worn panties before, but there was no hiding them under this dress. She wasn't wearing a bra either, although Padma has shown her a neat charm that would hold her breasts up the in a lofty position required for the dress and ensured her nipples weren't visible through the clinging fabric.

And it was all a fucking waste.

Ronald didn't have eyes for anyone but his six-month pregnant girlfriend and then they'd left the Malfoy Christmas Gala they were all attending early.

Hermione supposed she deserved that; it was a stupid plan. It wasn't like she wanted Ron back, they'd only broken up five months ago. She'd just wanted him to know what he was missing. What he had so easily given up.

Now she was stuck there sipping her champagne while she listened to a bunch of lofty bureaucrats' praise Malfoy Industries for their hearty donations to the War Orphans fund. Hermione had clapped politely along, she'd had to. She worked for the War Orphans Fund; therefore, she was required as an employee to kiss the arses of any and all Malfoy Industries employees in attendance.

Hermione snuck another glass of champagne as she slipped away from the crowd and onto the balcony. It was finally empty with everyone inside for the speeches. Hermione gripped the white stone of the balcony wall as she sipped on the crisp champagne, letting the bubbles fizz and pop in her mouth before she swallowed.

She tipped her back with a sigh and looked up at the sky. Stars shone brightly above her, and she wished she could float away with them. Hermione shouldn't have come tonight; she could have made an excuse like she did every year, but she wanted to make a statement to Ron. That she wasn't broken, that she could go on without him.

He hadn't even noticed her.

"You're looking very Slytherin this evening, Miss Granger." A smooth, cool voice invaded her peace.

Hermione forced a polite smile onto her face as she turned.

"Mr Malfoy." She kept her tone calm and even as she watched Draco Malfoy slip out of the shadows.

He was dressed impeccably in black dress robes, and his blond hair was neatly combed back, not a single piece out of place. He hadn't changed all that much since their Hogwarts days, at least not physically. He still had the lean build of Seeker but now with the added beauty of a mans face rather than the pointy angles of a scared teenage boy. She hadn't seen him at the Gala and wondered if he had been hiding for most of the evening. She couldn't blame him; she was doing the same thing.

Hermione had seen Malfoy often since the end of the war, they brushed shoulders at functions and galas such as these. A prerequisite of their employment and social standing. Hermione was one-third of the Golden Trio, and now she worked for the largest charity that had established after the war. They enjoyed pulling out their war hero from time to time to remind people how much rebuilding there was to be done and to put a sympathetic face on the cause. Malfoy was the CEO of Malfoy Industries and donated large amounts both through his business and as a budding philanthropist. His numerous dedications to the post-war effort had taken him far in the eyes of the wizarding public, despite his less than savoury past.

Hermione didn't really resent Malfoy anymore. Resentment was tiring, and there were plenty of Death Eaters still locked up in Azkaban to despise if she felt so inclined. Malfoy, despite his incredibly brattish upbringing and attitude throughout Hogwarts, had changed considerably. Hermione job had profited numerous times from his generous support. He'd also been reasonably contrite during their eighth year at Hogwarts. Even going so far as to apologise to her in the library for his past beliefs. Still, she rarely engaged with him, and until now he had seemed content with that arrangement.

"Shouldn't you be in there?" Hermione nodded to the grand ballroom of Malfoy Manor. "They're all in there praising you."

Malfoy smirked at her; one hand tucked lazily into the pocket of his fine dress robes.

"You mean getting my ass kissed." He paused, running his thumb over his lower lip as he contemplated, "Actually now that I think of it, shouldn't you be in there kissing my ass, Granger?"

Hermione snorted but didn't deny it. Part of working for a charity meant schmoozing the rich and elite, coaxing the money out of their tight fists to barely make ends meet. Malfoy Industries was one of the largest backers of the War Orphans Fund.

"Well, it wouldn't be very conducive then would it." Hermione smirked back, "Seeing that you're out here, hiding in the bushes."

Malfoy chuckled,

"So, I suppose you came out here to find me then," He rose one eyebrow, "and you're not out here pouting about Weasley."

Hermione's smile faltered at that, and she glanced away. Shit.

"I must say if you were planning on making the weasel jealous tonight you certainly chose the right dress." Malfoy's eye roamed her body as he approached.

He made no attempt to hide his gaze as it burned through the thin layer of silk at her breasts, the curves of her hip and the way it pooled over her ass. Despite being ogled so openly, Hermione was surprised to find she didn't feel objectified. She felt powerful. She'd dressed to be noticed, only now the expression she'd so desperately hoped to see on Ron's face was on another man's. Draco's eyes lingered as he watched her shift further towards him. She didn't feel like an object as Draco's eyes flared, she felt... worshipped.

"It didn't work though," Hermione grumbled, as exciting it was to see Malfoy of all people react so viscerally to her that hadn't been her intended target. Ron had barely glanced her way.

"Didn't it?" Malfoy asked, arching one eyebrow. "Then I suppose the argument I overheard between weasel-bee and his arm piece was about a different woman in a green dress he couldn't keep his eyes off."

Hermione looked up, "Really?"

She shouldn't have sounded so smug, she realised. It was a petty game with no winner, but as she watched the smirk on Malfoys lips widen, she knew he was amused by her Slytherin-like antics.

"Miss Brown was royally pissed after the third time she caught him drooling over your ass." He confirmed, his own eyes drifting back down to her hips.

Hermione blushed. As stupid as it was, she felt satisfied. It would change nothing in her life and had come purely from a vengeful, spiteful beast inside her, but she revelled in the knowledge that despite leaving her she could still hold at least one power over Ron's head.

"You know for the first time, I find myself sympathising with the Weasel. What man in his right mind wouldn't be looking at your ass in that dress?"

Hermione's mouth dropped open.

She knew Malfoy was a womaniser, every Pureblood and wannabe socialite clamoured to be seen with him. She also knew his eyes had been trailing her figure since she stepped out onto the balcony. She hadn't taken it seriously until he voiced the thought out loud. Malfoy was actually appreciating her body. Her muggleborn body. Draco Malfoy was... flirting with her?

She looked at his face and whispered

"Malfoy, are you drunk?"

"Not nearly as much as I plan to be." Malfoy slid next to her, took the champagne out of her hand and sipped it slowly. Hermione couldn't drag her eyes away from his lips as they touched her glass and the sparking liquid tipped across them. He licked his lips slowly as he placed the glass down on the stone once more. Hermione shook herself.

There was another round of clapping from inside the ballroom and Malfoy groaned. He looked across to the closed doors of the balcony and then back at Hermione. A wicked grin flashed across his face and down to her dress once more.

"Tell me, Miss Granger," he purred, and Hermione was sure this was how he'd managed to make a name for himself as a heart breaker. "How far are you willing to go to exact this little revenge fantasy of yours?"

Hermione blushed,

"Not that far." She said, making sure the warning was present in her voice.

Malfoy smirked,

"Relax, Granger. I wasn't talking about that. Unless you-"

His eyes trailed down again, and Hermione thumped Malfoy on the shoulder, pushing his body away from hers.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Malfoy. And put your eyes back in their sockets while you're at it."

Staring was one thing; Hermione didn't mind him looking at her, but there was a line she needed to draw in this. Draco Malfoy was a very far step over than line. The world may have changed a lot since the war, but she was still acutely aware of who he was. The smirk on Malfoy's face didn't budge.

"Sorry." He said, smiling and looking completely unapologetic. "I was only suggesting a few photos. There are a lot of no-good gossips in there who would love to write about how I had the most gorgeous woman on my arm tonight."

Hermione pursed her lips and was about to tell him to sod off when that little beast in her chest laughed. Ron would hate it. It would be easy to brush off as well, a few photos of them at a Christmas ball talking would mean nothing but Malfoy was always in the Witch Weekly and the Daily Prophet, constant speculation about his dates flooded their pages. No one could get enough of the rich, young bachelor; and to put Hermione, the brains of the Golden Trio there with him… She knew the journalists would eat it up.

It wouldn't be hard, the little beast inside her purred, a few gentle touches and a whispered conversation. It would be in the next day's press, rumours galore. Rumours, however, that Hermione could dismiss easily. He was the owner of Malfoy Industries, she was one of the more famous faces of the War Orphan fund, this was the Christmas charity gala thrown by Malfoy Industries. It made sense for her to be here, it made sense for her to be talking to Malfoy. She could easily dismiss anything else. A few weeks would pass, everyone would get bored and forget they'd ever cared about Hermione Granger talking to Draco Malfoy at a ball. Some other scandal would take over, and if anyone asked about it, Hermione would fervidly deny the accusations. She'd merely been talking to Malfoy about another charity project.

Ron, however, would be furious. He read far too many gossip columns to be healthy, and he hated Malfoy with a passion. He'd wanted the Slytherin locked up for good after the war but hadn't been able to do much when it was Harry who had suggested a lighter sentence for Draco and his mother. His success with Malfoy Industries continued to gut Ron, who had moved from the Aurors department down to one of the Magical Law Enforcements smaller divisions.

Hermione licked her lips and met Malfoy's eye. Whether he saw the vengeful streak in her eyes or had just assumed she would agree, he grinned and pushed off the stone wall. He approached the balcony door and cracking it open quietly; he held a hand out to her.

Oh god Hermione, this is insane, she whispered to herself, you're not seriously going to do this? Still, one hand reached out and took Malfoy's as they stepped through the door together. You're playing with fire, her dutiful conscious yelled at her, but she ignored it. She deserved to have some fun. If it was at Ron's expense, then all the better. Malfoy tucked Hermione's hand into his arm and led her around the back of the group. Don't come crying to me when you get burned.

Blaise Zabini, standing to the side of the small stage caught sight of Malfoy and flashed him a pissed off look. As they approached, he slipped closer to them.

"Cutting it close, Draco."

Malfoy shrugged,

"I'm here, aren't I?"

Blaise flashed a single curious glance at Hermione but otherwise ignored her as he began whispering furiously into Malfoy's ear. Malfoy nodded a few times but otherwise looked unperturbed. Finally, the round man on the stage ended his speech, receiving another round of applause. Hermione tried not to roll her eyes. When she had started working for a charity, she had been incredibly excited about the work. Hermione hadn't realised just how much of her work would mean rubbing shoulders with the rich and how often she would need to hear them congratulation themselves on their incredibly generous work. Hermione didn't care if they threw themselves a parade as long as she was able to get enough donations to fund her projects.

Zabini nudged Malfoy's shoulder, who let out an almost undetectable sigh over it. Malfoy's legendary smile flicked on like a lightbulb as camera's turned to him. He leant to whisper to Hermione,

"I'll be right back." He said, his nose brushing a loose curl as he spoke. Hermione could feel eyes on her as she smiled back to him.

"Try not to kiss too many arses." She whispered.

Malfoy's grin slipped into something more genuine at her response.

Hermione watched Malfoy take the small stage but tuned out quickly. It was a good speech, all about progress and empowering those less fortunate. The rest of the crowd listened attentively, but Hermione had heard every version of this speech there was possible to make.

"Granger," Blaise nodded to her quietly, apparently acknowledging her now he had managed to rope Malfoy into playing the attentive businessman. "You look lovely tonight."

"Thank you." She replied, keeping her head directed towards the stage the same as Zabini did. They looked attentive to Malfoy's speech but he whispered to her again.

"Do I want to know what you two are up to?" He asked.

Hermione blushed,

"Probably not." She admitted.

"Hmm," Zabini said after a pause, "I saw Ronald was here earlier. With his new girlfriend."

Hermione pursed her lips but said nothing. Zabini's voice lowered even further and dripped with disdain as he said,

"She's looking very… progressed for only being five months along."

Hermione tried not to snort. She'd known that was the angle they were going for. Hermione also suspected that there had been some level of bribery to the Prophet, the only article written about Ron and Lavender's expected child had been in a very positive light. They had very briefly brushed over the fact Lavender was apparently due precisely nine months after Hermione and Ron had ended their marriage.

"Yes, well." Hermione replied, "I wish her all the best in her pregnancy. Hopefully, she's resting well. It would be a terrible shame if she were to deliver early."

Hermione predicted it would be almost a full month early, in fact. She was sure the Prophet would praise the preemie for being so well developed considering the circumstances. Zabini's lips curled.

"Yes," he said, glancing at her and meeting her eyes for a second, "it would be terribly unexpected if she were."

Hermione smirked back. She shouldn't have said anything but then, why should she bother protecting them. They had done nothing to protect her from the nasty shock of finding Ron moved out of their shared flat and into Lavender's home when she returned from a three-day business trip.

Hermione had been informed by a letter left on the kitchen bench that Ron was gone and could she be a dear and not make a fuss about anything. Divorce papers were also left on the table. Hermione, despite wanting to hadn't made a fuss. Ginny, on the other hand, had made a very public one. As had Harry. And George. And Mrs Weasley, to Hermione's surprise.

Hermione had allowed herself to wallow for three weeks, being pummelled with cake and cookies and too many baked goods to poke a stick at before she pulled herself out of her bed and went back to work. It was in the shower than Hermione realised it had been three weeks since she'd had to listen to Ron whine about the MLE, three weeks since she'd spent the weekend cleaning up after and cooking for her husband, three weeks since she'd had to explain to him again why she needed to work that weekend. Suddenly Hermione realised it was… freeing. After that realisation, things became more manageable. Not perfect, but easier to deal with. The announcement that Lavender was pregnant less than two weeks after that had hurt but she'd taken it in her stride, determined to show herself and the world she was better off without the Weasel she'd called a husband for three years.

The crowd clapped again as Malfoy finished speaking. He stepped down from the stage and came straight to her.

"How did I do?" He grinned, one hand brushing the small of her back as cameras turned towards them.

Hermione smiled politely, keeping her face light as she turned attentively to him. One hand brushed his upper arm softly, affectionate but not overly so. The stood close to each other, but not touching. Together but deniably so. Just close enough to be having a friendly conversation as the music of the evening began again. Camera's flashed as Hermione batted her eyes and smiled up at him. She kept her voice low so that no one but their small party of three could hear.

"I've no idea." She said, "I wasn't listening."

Malfoy laughed. Even Zabini, standing on the other side of him snorted.

"Shut it, Blaise" Malfoy said over his shoulder.

"Sure, Boss," Blaise said, still smiling. "Just good to see that big head of yours deflated once in a while."

Hermione laughed this time.

"Draco Malfoy with a big ego," She winked at Blaise, "Who would have believed it?"

Malfoy groaned, and Blaise sniggered at him.

"I like her." Blaise said, "Can you try not to fuck it up?"

He addressed the later part to Malfoy but Hermione, her back now turned to the camera's as they spoke to Blaise wrinkled her nose at him.

"There's nothing to fuck up." She said, amusement leaving her voice. "I can promise you that."

Malfoy chuckled,

"No." He agreed, "Only an amusing plot for revenge."

Blaise rolled his eyes and Hermione tried not to gasp as she felt Malfoy's hand brush the exposed skin on her lower back. The dress she was wearing had a deep cut out on her back, showing off the dip of her spine and Malfoy's fingers now danced across the skin, making her nerves tingle. Any lower and he would be roaming into the vicinity of obscene. Hermione realised with their backs turned to the huddle of reporters they would be getting a full view of the brief but intimate touch.

Hermione's cheeks burned. She had agreed to this but, oh god, she wasn't prepared for the way his fingers brushed her skin so gently it sent currents of electricity racing up her spine.

Malfoy looked down at Hermione. Even with her heels, he was almost a head taller than her. Hermione could only nod as he suggested getting a drink. As he pressed more firmly on her back, guiding her away as Blaise called after him.

"Don't forget you have another announcement later, Draco. I expect you back here!"

Malfoy waved one hand at his friend and employee. Hermione got the distinct impression that Malfoy had no intention to return for the final speech of the night.

They reached the large champagne fountain near the edge of the great room. Sipping on her glass Hermione found she didn't get much of a chance to talk to Malfoy after that. Important men and women approached him to discuss everything polite society could, though most of it a guise for asking about his business and potential investments. To her surprise, Malfoy actually introduced and engaged her in the conversations. It was both unexpected and actually highly beneficial to her. She had learned how to schmooze with the best of them and by the time the crowd was called to gather again she'd secured three donations to her latest project on elvish welfare.

"You actually look like you're enjoying yourself, Granger," Malfoy said when they were finally left alone.

Hermione snorted,

"Not exactly." She said, "but I just got promised more money than I received all last quarter."

Malfoy looked impressed. He too had secured some business deals, but Hermione presumed that was a regular occurrence for him. She had gone into this ridiculous one-night vengeance plan only looking to piss Ron off however it had suddenly become all the more advantageous.

The crowd clapped for one more pompous arsehole wishing them a merry Christmas when Malfoy groaned.

"Granger," he said, "how would you like to earn the biggest donation your organisation has ever seen?"

Hermione's eyes widened, looking as Malfoy backed away from where they stood.

"What?" She hissed at him. That would be an excessive amount of money.

"Shh." He hissed back, "Just cover for me, and I promise you'll have the funding for your little elves."

Hermione stared at him as he slipped behind one of the long tapestries on the wall. Hermione blinked, what the hell was he talking about.

"Hermione." She spun to see Blaise walking towards her, a deep frown on his face. "Where's Draco?"

Hermione hesitated, almost telling him that the idiot was hiding behind the tapestry but stopped herself. If Malfoy was being genuine about the donation, she could simply tell Blaise she didn't know where he was, and if he wasn't serious, it wasn't really her problem if Malfoy ruined his own Christmas Gala by not showing up for one more speech.

"I, uh," She stuttered. "He said he was going to get some more drinks."

Hermione realised what a stupid lie it was when Blaise lifted one eyebrow and glanced at the large Champagne fountain next to them. It was the primary source of drinks for the Gala, not to mention the number of floating trays distributing beverages to the rest of the room.

"Right," Blaise said sarcastically. "Well, if you do see him tell him he owes me a damn raise."

Hermione nodded, there was no point trying to push her lie, and Blaise was obviously accustomed to Malfoy's antics. Hermione watched Blaise walk back across the room just in time to take the stage, fishing a speech out of his pocket and beaming at the crowd.

"Psst, Granger."

Hermione turned; Malfoy stuck his head out from behind the tapestry. Hermione widened her eyes at him, what the devil was he playing at. Malfoy held the fabric aloft and jerked his head, indicating for her to join him. Hermione glanced around the room, making sure no one saw her as she slunk to the wall.

"Malfoy," she whispered, "What are you doing?"

He took a step back and revealed a stairway. Hermione tried to look down it, but it was almost pitch black, she had no doubt that the Malfoy manor had dozens of secret passageways, but she'd never expected to see one.

"You mentioned to Odair you're a fan of fire whisky." He said, referring to one of the many conversations they'd had earlier with the very important people she hadn't remembered the names of.

It was true, she did like fire whisky nonetheless she glanced dubiously at Malfoy. There was a difference between playing their little charade out here and following him down into a dark tunnel.

"Why?" she asked carefully.

"Because I'd rather go down there to my extensive collection of fire whisky than stay up here for all the press photos that are about to happen."

Hermione shuddered; she'd had enough photos taken of her for one night. And fire whisky did sound good. Maybe it was a dumb idea. Perhaps it was the fourth glass of champagne that made her do it. Regardless, Hermione slipped under Malfoy's arm and into the dark tunnel. Reason and logic be damned, she had already done a dozen stupid things this evening. What was one more?

"You owe Blaise a raise." She informed him after he dropped the tapestry.

"I gave him a raise two months ago when I missed the Halloween speeches." He muttered as he pulled out his wand and with a flick the walls of the tunnel lit up, glowing red flames licking at their torches every few metres. "He'll live."

The tunnel wasn't terribly long, but it still took Hermione almost three minutes to navigate all the stairs in her heels. At one-point, Malfoy threatened to carry her the rest of the way although he'd shut up when she'd fixed him with a sharp glare.

"Oh, wow." Hermione breathed as they finally reached the end of the path.

They were standing in a large open room, the walls cut into solid rock and rows upon rows of bottles nestled neatly into individual nooks. It was the most extensive cellar she'd ever seen. Malfoy shrugged at her side. He walked to a wooden shelf, filled with bottles that were all either opened or expected to be open soon. He pointed Hermione to a small area nearby with two armchairs and a matching French chaise lounge that faced a crackling fireplace. It looked out of place in the deep cellar. Still, it would be more comfortable than sitting on the cold, hard floor.

"So," Hermione said curiously once they were each settled in opposing armchairs with a large glass of fire whisky in hand. "I know why I wanted to torment Ronald, but what are you getting out of this agreement, Malfoy?"

Malfoy sipped on his glass and smirked,

"Can't I just do it out the goodness of my heart?" He said.

"No," Hermione said, laughing. "I'd never believe that. You are as Slytherin as they come, Malfoy, you wouldn't do it if it didn't benefit you in some way."

Malfoy smirked over his glass of fire whisky. He didn't seem offended by the accusation. Actually, he looked a little proud of it.

"Fine." He said, "There were two reasons."

Hermione lifted an eyebrow and waited.

"First," Malfoy said with a devilishly satisfied grin, "anything that pisses off the Weasley makes me incredibly happy."

Hermione rolled her eyes but said nothing. She knew Ron felt the exact same way about Malfoy and to be honest, right now, all Hermione wanted to do was piss Ron off too. Not very mature but, an enemy of my enemy and all that.

"and second," Malfoy lost a little of his mirth, "you, Miss Granger, are a very valuable commodity."

Hermione frowned at that.

"What is that meant to mean?" She growled, sounding a little more offended than she would have liked.

Malfoy looked away as if realising this might not have been the best thing to say to the somewhat drunk Gryffindor.

"I mean," he began, "Malfoy Industries is well respected, but some of my acquaintances are still a little hesitant when it comes to trusting me personally.

"Shocker," Hermione mumbled over her glass. Malfoy ignored her remark.

"But with the Gryffindor Princess, brains of the golden trio, war heroine, defender of all that is righteous by my side, suddenly they're all the more willing to work with me. All those men up there tonight were so distracted by the presence of the great, most wise Hermione Granger they didn't realise they were agreeing to vastly unequal deals that benefitted me greatly."

Hermione paused and contemplated it. She could accuse him of using her, but hell, she had too. Both to annoy Ron and she'd managed to get several donations for her job. If anything, Malfoy had done exactly what her boss had sent her there to do. She opened her mouth to tell him this when Malfoy's eyes flashed mischievously.

"That or they were just too distracted by your tits to realise how much of their business they were signing away."

Hermione gapped, then burst into loud laughter.

"Malfoy, you are a pig!"

His eyes raked her chest as it heaved under her laughter, and he shrugged at her accusation. Finally, as her mirth receded, she held out her glass.

"More fire whisky." She demanded from him.

It was damn good. Dangerously so, it was rich and smooth sliding down the throat with a delicious burn. Hermione stood up after Malfoy claimed her glass and kicked off her high heels, they were bad enough when she was sober but now that she was bordering on downright drunk, she wobbled precariously in them.

"Getting comfortable, Granger?" Malfoy chuckled at her as she basked in the firelight, shoes strewn across the floor.

"Hmmm." She took the glass of fire whisky from him happily. It too warmed her from the cold of the cellar.

Malfoy peeled off own shoes and his outer layers of robes and leant against the armchair. Hermione glanced at him, despite his calm demeanour Malfoy looked as drunk as her, his hair slowly losing its perfectly styled look. She was sure hers was undoing itself, slowly returning to the mass of untamed curls.

If anyone had ever told Hermione that she would one day be in the cellar of Malfoy Manor drinking from their very old, very expensive fire whisky collection while enjoying listening to Draco Malfoy insult Ronald Weasley and ogle her breasts she would have slapped them so hard they couldn't see for a week. Yet, as she rotated herself in front of the fire, she had to admit she was having a good time.

Maybe the method in which she had arrived here was terribly morose, but right now she would rather spend a year in Malfoy's company than a day in Ron's. She had been terribly excited about her prospects after the war. She was going to complete her NEWTs, she was dating Ron, and she had grand plans for the future. They'd gotten married just over a year after the battle of Hogwarts, despite the concern from Hermione's parents. She had recently made a mental note to consult her mother more, it turned right she had predicted everything correctly.

Regardless, Hermione had been happy for a time. She'd believe Ron was too. They both began working, bought a flat and even talked about children. Then Hermione had started getting promotions at the War Orphans Fund, WOF for short, while Ron got unofficial demotions. They'd half-heartedly tried for a baby for about two months before Ron got fed up and just decided that Hermione couldn't get pregnant and finally, they'd just stopped having sex altogether.

She wasn't overly surprised when he started pulling away and spending more time at 'work'. She'd seen the end of their relationship coming, she just hadn't realised that it would be at the end of Lavender Brown's vagina.

Hermione sighed and flopped onto the small chaise, legs still on the ground but laying back to look up at the roof. She shook herself, trying to dislodge the thoughts of her ex and their demise. She was having a good time, drinking good alcohol and had semi-decent company.

"What's got you in a huff?" Malfoy asked, having silently watched her descent into irritation.

Hermione shrugged, trying to get back to the light-hearted alcohol-induced state she'd been enjoying moments before.

"Nothing."

"You look like you've got your knickers in a twist." He said, shifting off the armchair and standing above her.

Hermione giggled, realising where she was and how she was dressed and giggled more as Malfoy looked down at her like she was daft.

"I'm not wearing any knickers." She guffawed then slapped a hand over her mouth realising she'd just announced it to Draco Malfoy.

As she looked up, Hermione saw Malfoy's eyes darken. His pupils dilated as he stared down at her and he swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he said,

"That, Granger, isn't playing fair."

He looked like he was struggling to control his emotions and something deep in Hermione's gut dropped. He was serious, she realised. All the playful comments and teasing her about her dress: he was serious, he actually found her attractive. Now he was standing above her, tie loose and top button of his shirt unbuttoned, a half-empty glass of fire whisky in hand as his dark eyes drank her in.

No one had ever looked at her like that. Not even on her wedding night had Hermione felt such a deep, almost primal draw like she did now. He wanted her. He looked at her now like he desperately wanted to taste her and Hermione was sure her pupils dilated at the very thought of it.

It had been a long time since Hermione had had sex. A very, very, very long time. She swallowed. This was not a good idea, a small part of her screamed as it bobbed up and down in an ocean of fire whisky and lust. This is not right; you've gone too far. Pull back before we're lost forever.

Hermione couldn't hear the voice, the roaring of her blood in her ears was too loud. Who cared if this was wrong? Wasn't this whole evening wrong? She had come for revenge, she had come here to make herself feel better. She was sure the man above her now could make her feel better. Multiple times. Over and over again.

Hermione licked her lips as her own eyes roamed Malfoy's body. He was still staring at her, breathing heavy and she wondered if her own matched it. Hermione burned under the heated look he gave her, but it was seeing the bulge in his pants that gave her the courage to move.

Slowly, without breaking the spell they were under, she slipped her knee in between Malfoy's legs. She pushed him down and forward until he realised what she was doing.

"Draco," she whispered, "I want you to touch me."

His breath caught in his throat at her request. She'd push his knee until it was pressing against the velvet of the chaise, he was kneeling above her, partially between her legs. She slipped her other leg up, grazing the outside of his leg until she felt a hand slip under her knee.

Malfoy looked down, at her leg and gently brushed the soft skin with the pad of his thumb. It forced the gown she wore up, pooling it at her mid-thighs. The stunned look on his face broke then, he placed his glass of fire whisky on the stone floor gently. When he met her eyes again, Hermione knew.

Malfoy slipped both hands under her thighs and with a sharp yank, pulled her down the chaise. The rough movement making her gasp as her hips nestled under his own. He ran his hands over her dress, touched her hips and glided them along her waist as he leant over her.

"Say it again." He growled.

Hermione didn't hesitate. She would have begged him if he asked, the sensations of his hand skirting her sides, up to the bottom of her breasts. They sent shivers of anticipation to her naval, she parted her lips as he bent low above her head.

"Touch me, Draco." She whispered, watching his eyes dilate further.

Draco captured her lips in his, kissing her forcefully as a groan escaped her throat, and she wrapped her hands around him.